


Restoration

by Obvious_Ghost



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hiro Hamada Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Psychological Drama, Rebuilding Baymax, Team as Family, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obvious_Ghost/pseuds/Obvious_Ghost
Summary: The storm has passed.Callaghan has been defeated, Abigail is safe- and Hiro Hamada holds a computer chip in his hand, hope rising like the sun. Tadashi built him once, so... how hard could it be to build him again? It's only a matter of time.But grieving minds hide painful secrets, and desperation is an awful thing.
Relationships: Cass Hamada & Hiro Hamada
Comments: 25
Kudos: 30





	1. October, 1

Time seems to stop.

The first beginning is a moment, frozen, when the slanted orange of the October sunset pours through the windows of the lab and illuminates the room like a jack o'lantern, dust mites floating between the computers and over the desk near the wall. His backpack is there, tossed carelessly onto the rolling chair that won't stop squeaking; beyond that are printouts of second and third and fourth drafts of reports, projects, essays, exams, strewn haphazard over the tables across from the door. The workstation is a mess, complemented by the posters hanging above- school announcements, reminders of deadlines, running tallies of table tennis tournaments and a schedule of who's responsible for locking up the lab each night. There's a faint murmur from the hallway, of the last students hanging around the campus until rush hour dies down.

It's silent, otherwise, because the boy in the middle of the room is stock-still, unbreathing, hardly daring to blink- and the green piece of hardware in his hand is so light he can barely believe it exists at all.

Like it might float out of his grasp, and drift away.

' **TADASHI HAMADA.** '

His thoughts, too, are frozen for an instant. It's all here, all of it, not just the procedures and source code- but the _memories_ , the personality, the friend who saved his life. He isn't gone. Tadashi's work isn't lost.

It hits him like a physical pain, frantic energy and happiness that bursts from a dark corner and tears down the foundations of what he _thought_ he was ready for, because he's been trying to move past it all, he really has, hoping to start a new life with his friends and the school and everything else- he just got out of class, even, and he only meant to grab a few things before he headed home, and if he turns he can still see the backpack only a few feet away where he let it fall when he wandered over here to Baymax's metal hand a few minutes ago _back when he didn't have the chip, before the whole world changed._ And now that he DOES have it, he can-

He can-

It's making him shake, almost dizzy, because he can do it. He’s sure. He knew it back when Tadashi showed him Baymax for the first time, that the real genius was in the chip itself, and everything else wasn't nearly as irreplaceable. Just metal and wires, and that- he can re-create that. Myriad thoughts fly in different directions; were Tadashi's original research and blueprints lost in the fire? How much do the others know? Could the institute let him use the labs for a project like this? Can he muster up even a _fraction_ of Tadashi's work ethic and perseverance?

What if he gets it wrong?

The last one causes him to stop, and the thoughts- already pushed to the extremes of emotion- flip again. There's a fierce determination, now, and he can almost feel the excitement buzzing in his head and in his hands and racing on his skin, raising goosebumps all the way. Not only can he do it, but he _has_ to. It's not even a question. He has the chance to get Baymax back, and he won't stop until he succeeds.

The whole world feels different.

The frozen moment shatters apart, and Hiro flies through the lab like a banshee. Tearing around corners, feeling like his feet are barely touching the ground, he bursts into the quiet dark of the main space, past the desks and tables neatly set up for tomorrow's classes, past personalized cubicles and doorways leading to other areas of the building, past a few upperclassmen who are trying to watch a video on a smartphone screen, until he finds who he's looking for, because Wasabi is staying late, he's been staying late every night this week working on his next Applied Physics project, and if Hiro can't TELL somebody about this soon, he's going to rocket off into space-

"Whoa, slow down, little man."

Hiro knows he'll remember that later, the way Wasabi grins at him with an easygoing tilt of his head, and how that changes when all the words come out in a rush and he holds up the chip- ‘ _he kept it in his hand, he saved it, he's still here’_ and Wasabi just looks at him for a moment, not comprehending, until the realization hits his eyes at the exact moment that Hiro takes a deep breath and says more clearly:

"I can build him again."

It's a look, shock and wonder and euphoria, and it starts a gigantic hug and a flurry of excited phone calls and texts- **_are you busy, good, get to the Lucky Cat, we're all meeting right now- look Fred I refuse to call it 'defcon five' just get to the café already_** _-_ because this news is too big to only share with one person. He feels like he's dreaming during the anxious ride in Wasabi's van back to the café- the trams would be too slow, but Wasabi's meticulous standard of following every traffic rule and guideline makes it seem like this is taking even longer.

**-hiro can we at least call it a CODE**

**RED** **EMERGENCY TEAM MEETING**

**-if we call it that**

**\- will you hurry up and go to the café**

**-yee**

**-alright fine**

And this, here, is the second beginning, in the hectic energy of the restaurant, where the faint smell of baked dough and tired crowds and fruit and cream and chocolate all drifts overhead. There's the double-sized table in the corner with the coffee spill that never quite comes out, the booth where Mr. and Mrs. Takomo are discussing whether or not the raspberry turnovers are made with _organically_ grown fruit, and the group of high schoolers near the window trying to make some kind of fort out of the napkin holders while recording the whole thing on their phones. It’s a familiar chaos, and at the cash register, Cass Hamada is in the middle of three conversations, trying to apologize for the short delay to one customer, explaining the weekend specials to another, and attempting to parcel out exact change for a third. Her smile is professional, but tired, because she can handle the stress and bustle of a successful restaurant as well as the best of them, but that doesn't change the fact that she'll be thoroughly glad to sit down and relax with Mochi and a bowl of rocky road ice cream when this is all over.

And in the center of it all, she suddenly sees Hiro darting through the customers and the maze of tables, and he hasn't even bothered to drop his backpack yet, scanning the building like he's looking for someone.

He's been gone all day, and when she catches a break in the line of customers, she calls his name with a smirk- it'll be a joking reprimand, for not even saying hello when he finally came home. But when he turns, startled, with that look he has sometimes, the one where he's so focused that it’s like he's forgotten anything else in the world even exists, she stops.

Because Hiro's smiling. He's beaming, a grin that seems to electrify his eyes and his nose and even his hair, more sticking-up than usual, like he's so happy that it's trying to explode out away from him and make the rest of the room as joyful as he is. There’s a spark there, excited, but not nervous or stressed or harried; it's so unlike the way he's looked these last weeks. So when he scampers behind the counter and crashes into her with a hug, she can't think of what she was going to ask him for a moment.

Somehow, it doesn't seem to matter.

She's finally able to stammer out a question about how the day went, and he brushes his hair away from his eyes with a barrage of chatter she doesn't recognize- something about a project for one of his classes, and working on something he thought he wouldn't be able to complete, and his friends are probably going to be over soon, and is it okay if they move two of the tables together near the jukebox so they can all fit, because no one ever sits over there anyway and he'll help her out with the café before and after so she has a little less work, he promises, so would that be okay, please?

Cass can't bring herself to do much more than say 'of course', and ruffle his hair the way he always complains about. He scowls, but he's still smiling, and almost immediately dashes away- almost colliding with Mrs. Matsuda, but then he’s politely apologizing and asking her how her day’s going as she heads to her table. Whatever good mood this is, it’s enough to even make him a bit _sociable._ Cass is dumbstruck.

She breathes out, taking just a second to close her eyes.

The steady hum of the restaurant floats over her.

…

It's been such an awful month.

She doesn't think about it often- at least, not on purpose. She has to fight to keep from replaying the events in her head, over and over, and it usually doesn't do anything except make her more depressed. The fire, of course. The way Hiro had looked when she finally found him, terrified eyes shining with the blaring red lights of the emergency vehicles and the grisly orange coming from the building. The funeral. The pervasive, inescapable darkness that hung over the café for so long, and the uneaten plates of food she kept bringing back from Hiro's room.

The bizarre, gut-wrenching story that played out over the news only days ago, with a presumed-dead professor- one of Tadashi’s heroes, even- who was suddenly accused of terrorism and attempted _murder_ , of all things, arrested and shunted into a cell and out of the public eye just as quickly, with so little time for anyone to process what had happened.

(And the terrible, paranoid suspicion, that jolted her out of nightmares and into wild lucidity one night, then another, and another- the thought that there had been _six_ of them, those heroes who fought him off and saved lives in the center of the city, and the leader with the dark mask was so small, only a child's height- and Hiro was spending more and more time with Tadashi's friends- and her grief over losing her nephew was so strong, so palpable, and there was no way in heaven or hell that she could imagine Hiro throwing himself into danger day after day- and she had to push away that worry, had to tell herself that it simply wasn't possible, that she was jumping to conclusions. After all, the sixth figure was some kind of hulking robot, and she'd never seen anything like it before. More importantly, Hiro was impulsive and stubborn, but he wouldn't _do_ something like this. He couldn't. And she would only drive herself crazy if she let her fear get the better of her common sense. He's only fourteen.)

But suddenly, only days ago, she saw the first signs of life in the way Hiro was acting, beyond the despair and jittery panic of the previous weeks. And she let herself think that maybe, finally, they were making their way through the worst of the storm. They could never get back to the way things were before Tadashi died. But they could make it through.

Then, he started school.

And now he's-

- _happy?-_

-he's looking over the display case at one of their repeat customers who always likes throwing banter back and forth with them, raising his eyebrows in mock anger and shooing him away- "Excuse me, who let _you_ in here?"- so Mr. Kyomi turns it right back and pretends to storm back out the door, complaining over his shoulder that Riu's Diner would _never_ be so disrespectful to their customers, and maybe he'll just take his business somewhere that _appreciates_ him, and his wife is rolling her eyes while Cass tries not to laugh too hard. She already has their usual choice dialed up in the computer by the time Hiro actually takes their order.

… _She's_ happy, too.

The restaurant is loud, but not abrasive. Mr. Kyomi takes his change and, with a devilish smirk, loudly congratulates Hiro on having his twelfth birthday; Hiro pauses, then cocks his head and remarks, "Well, thank you, but you're the one who should be celebrating. Twelve isn't nearly as impressive as a hundred and thre-" Cass shoves her hand over his mouth, but not before Mr. Kyomi's jaw drops and, from her table across the room, Mrs. Matsuda snorts into her coffee.

…Okay, so maybe his burst of happy energy isn't 100% a good thing. She cuffs the back of his head, and Hiro takes a second to apologize to _Mrs._ Kyomi and give her husband nothing but a shrug, then darts away to gather up some dishes. Cass is trying to stammer out a proper apology, since Hiro probably crossed a line there- but she's distracted by the other customers waiting at the front, and soon enough she loses track of the Kyomis entirely. Really, this whole day feels a bit out of her control, so.

"Hello?" Eventually, with her attention pulled in different directions, she almost misses that one of Hiro's friends has reached the register. She wants to say his name is Gary- but she's only ever heard Tadashi and the others refer to him as 'Wasabi' before. Despite his size, he seems to be hunched over, looking almost apologetic. "Just a small coffee," he says, then sheepishly adds, "The whole gang's gonna be here soon, so Fred will probably blast through half your menu. Fair warning."

"Yeah, yeah," she says with a laugh. "Hiro already told me." The money switches hands, and the order's punched in, so she keeps talking while fixing up the cup of coffee. "Were you boys working late?"

In response, he sighs dramatically. "If I never have to cite another research article again, it'll be too soon."

She shakes her head. "Gotta admit, those are terms I haven't heard in- huh." She sets the coffee down, then narrows her eyes. "I'd say about twenty, twenty-one..."

Has it been that long, since she was in Hiro's shoes? Worrying about grades, and lectures, and papers, and studying all night with friends? Lost in thought, she snaps out of it when Gary raises his eyebrows, clearly expecting her to continue. "Minutes," she says. "Since Hiro mentioned the same thing."

A perfect save. Gary laughs and takes his coffee, thanking her again. Soon he's over near the main floor, nudging Hiro as he passes with a tray of dishes. She only hears part of the conversation- "-waiting anyway, so you might as well help me, man-" and sees Wasabi wave his receipt in the air, as if to say, _paying customer, sorry,_ before she catches the _ding_ of the door's bell just in time to wish the Takomos a nice evening as they leave.

She breathes deep, with the smells and the sounds and the warm light filtering in from the windows, and she's happy.

The 'gang' arrives like a thunderbolt, later, when she's focused on taking stock of the registers and computer totals for the day. True to form, Fred places the order for everyone, with three specialty drinks and eight different pastries, while the others move to where Wasabi's already sitting.

He even catches her off-guard, pausing after the order is already rang through and paid for- suddenly adding, "Oh, and I guess I should get stuff for everyone else, too.” She's startled for a moment, before he snickers and dances away, tossing a 'Gotcha!' over his shoulder as he goes. One of the girls shakes her head when he gets closer- Ethel, Cass is pretty sure, but again, Hiro's friends deal in nicknames so often that she can never be sure. Someone calls out 'you're _such_ a dork', and Fred takes a bow before spinning a chair around and sitting in it backwards.

She turns back to the registers. They seem… good. A close group, but not closed-off. And Lord knows Hiro could use close friends, especially given that his peers at school are unanimously four and five years his senior.

Another thought hits her: more than once, Hiro's friends have confided in her that Tadashi's optimism and kindness really impacted them, inspiring them to be more like him in their own lives. And now she has to wonder, as she catches Hiro with another tray of dishes and mentions that his friends are here, if maybe…

His eyes light up again, and he absentmindedly sets the tray down on the nearest counter before he practically sprints over to the group.

Maybe they're doing the same for Hiro.

She doesn't hear the conversation. In a way, she doesn't feel like she should, because it seems somehow- not private, exactly, but something close to it. She glances up again, once in a while, seeing Fred leap up from his chair and headlock-hug Hiro with one arm while he roughly noogies his hair with the other hand, and hears bits of the laughter and excitement and questions. The other girl- Tadashi called her 'Honey Lemon'- is the most animated out of all of them, shrieking with a tone that causes a few other patrons to glare at their table.

More eager conversation, more beaming smiles, but she can't tell what they're saying from here. So she hides her own smile, and turns away, and focuses her attention on the simple-but-busy work of getting the café ready for the evening close.

The sun's just barely dipping below the buildings across the street.

It comes out of nowhere, a surge of wistful happiness so strong that she nearly tears up on the spot. But she fights it back, and wishes the leaving customers a good night, and works on clearing the tables. Once again, she can barely hear Hiro's friends joking and chattering over some shared secret.

…They're happy, too.

And when they finally leave, when Fred bids the café goodbye with a strange kind of soulful monologue on the front curb, and Ethel punches him in the shoulder as they walk to the tram stop across the street, Cass watches them for a moment as the evening grows quiet. And when her last few part-timers clock out and head home, and when she tells Hiro he doesn't have to help her clean up tonight but he insists anyway, tackling the list of tasks pinned to the kitchen doorway for each closing shift, she watches the determined drive in his steps and thinks that maybe, at last, they're starting to get better. Maybe they can get through this.

Maybe they'll be all right.

…

Distracted, she moves the stale pastries from the display case to the fridge, to be discounted for tomorrow.

…

Hiro's working on more dishes in the kitchen.

…

The registers are done, so the only thing left to worry about is the sweeping and mopping on the main floor.

…

She opens her mouth, about to ask Tadashi which one he'd rather do, and she'll take the other task herself, and since it's relatively early, maybe when the three of them are done they can throw in a movie or something if he doesn't have too much homework-

…

Cass stops dead in the middle of the floor.

…

It's been _weeks_.

…

She shouldn't- she shouldn't still be-

…

There have been a lot of days, when she has to be strong. For Hiro, and for herself. When she can't let it overwhelm her.

This isn't one of those days.

She's crying, and she doesn't really care because it's already been a pretty emotional day and she doesn't have to hide from anyone- and pretty soon, Hiro's calling her name, and then he's quiet, and then he's hugging her again.

It drifts through her mind again: _maybe_ they’re starting to get better. Maybe they can get through this.

There’s a feeling she’s too exhausted to identify, deep down in her gut, reaching and twisting and hurting, but… something brighter, too, and she knows that Hiro can feel it just the same. There's a brief moment, where she feels ashamed for letting the tears dampen his mood, but he hugs her tighter and mumbles, "It's okay," and she knows that it is. There's nothing to apologize for.

It's still a good day. They'll get better. (And she doesn't listen to the worried voice, the one that sounds just like herself sometimes, saying _how long will it take_ , because it's hard to see any progress at all, any way forward, any sign that things can ever get back to the way they were- but it's not really about getting 'back', she knows, because life doesn't work that way, and you… in the end, you just have to…)

She can't make sense of her thoughts, and that's alright, too. She squeezes Hiro's shoulders and lets him go, giving him a brief smile and clearing her throat to ask if he can grab a broom and dustpan from the closet.

After all, there's work to do before the café opens again to greet the morning.

...

...

...

Eventually, much later, the lights in the lobby flicker out as night creeps over the city, shadows dragging past the buildings on the hills. The cool autumn air grows colder, while the few brightest stars pierce through the metropolis's light and shine above. Further off, the barely-audible roar of San Fransokyo's downtown nightlife is matching the faint man-made glow on the horizon. Half the city is stirring, as the other reaches the end of the day.

And Hiro opens the attic window and leans out, smiling, breathing in the crisp chill of the world outside before he steps back and falls onto his mattress. The lamp is already off, and the cold light of the half-moon is just enough to make out the green tinge of the computer chip as he turns it over in his hands.

He squints to look closer.

The transparent cover, and the circuitry behind- they're difficult to see clearly, and he didn't notice anything earlier, but… he straightens, scrambling to turn the light back on and study the chip more closely, and-

And-

_Oh no_

But he might be overreacting-

And he might-

 _not be_ -

…

This is the third beginning.

He can't be exactly sure what the chip originally looked like, since he didn't examine it rigorously. But the sinking feeling builds and builds until it feels like it's going to swallow him, tearing down all the exuberance and confidence from earlier and replacing it with a cold, sharp panic- because _Hiro knows wiring, and he knows that the circuits aren't supposed to look like that._

Honestly, he realizes dimly, he should have seen this coming. Baymax took the chip out in some kind of scientifically-unknown dimension between dimensions, clasped his fist around it, and launched it with the speed of a rocket out into the world.

Where Abigail Callaghan's pod crashed… straight into the concrete.

And during the day, during the whole day, Hiro never once stopped to think that maybe the chip could be damaged. Everything he felt when he first discovered the chip- it's all freezing, crystallizing, becoming something much more fragile, balanced on the edge of a cliff. He was okay, this morning; he was keeping himself busy, and feeling better, and trying to get started on all the course work that he'd have to make up, and then he'd found the chip, and everything had been _wildly_ different, and he'd been walking on air for the rest of the day, and he even held it together when Aunt Cass was having a rough night, and now all of that has whiplashed right back around to _panic_ , because in the space of a single day Baymax was gone and then here and now he's _gone again-_

" _No_ ," he blurts out, louder than he meant, and nearly falls out of his bed in his hurry to get to his feet. "No, no, no-" And he's grabbing for his phone, still holding the chip in his other hand, because he has to- has to talk to one of the others, maybe to get advice or just to tell them what's going on, he's not sure, but _something._ And he's still mumbling, still frantically spitting out _no_ and _Baymax_ and a few other words that Cass probably wouldn't approve of. In the space of an instant, a stray thought explodes through the rest: he's being too loud, and he probably woke up Tadashi, and he should apologize quick and explain, and maybe he'll know what to do-

He catches himself just as he looks up to the bed across the attic, behind the curtain he hasn't pulled back in a month.

His phone is already in his hand.

…His face is burning, like he just said something dumb in front of the class. But there's no one else up here.

He ignores it, trying not to think about the sudden sharpness in his chest, that’s pushing down and weighing on him heavier and more distinct than the worry over Baymax- because he's fine, he's moving on, he's doing better, this is ridiculous, he's FINE _-_ and scrolls through the contacts on his phone until he finds the one he's looking for.

…

Honey Lemon isn't answering.

…

He turns back to the window, after he realizes he's still staring at the curtain across the room.

…

He ends the call before her answering machine can start. She's probably sleeping. Because- it's late, he notices with a jolt. It's really late.

Hiro closes his eyes, and very deliberately sets the chip down on his bedside table.

He tries to focus on the rational side of his mind: the chip will still be here in the morning. He's exhausted. Freaking out, right now, won't help anybody. Fighting against the rush of adrenaline and fear in his throat, he tells himself: _tomorrow._

He'll get started on… well, everything. Tomorrow.

This doesn't really change the mission. They asked him, when they were all here earlier in the evening- _so what's the plan, now?_ And it was obvious, then. He would rebuild Baymax, from the ground up. Voice, inner machinery, database, everything. With all he's been learning at school, it would be relatively simple, compared to the AI in the chip itself.

Now, he simply has to work on repairs for that, too.

Slowly, he sinks back to a sitting position on the edge of his bed, and turns off the lamp. The attic's as quiet as ever, even with the faint whine of the breeze as it carries through the open window. He forgot about it, but he doesn't feel like getting back up to close it again.

The moon's shining through, at his back. He can see his own shadow stretching across the floor towards the other end of the room.

…

He picked up the chip, again, at some point. He doesn't really remember. But now he’s spinning it back and forth between his fingers, switching the cool plastic from hand to hand.

…

He thinks of how happy they were, before. It was as if he'd told them they'd each won a million dollars. He's almost angry, now, at himself- he shouldn't have told them so quickly, especially if he ends up being _wrong_. How's that conversation going to go? "Hey guys, sorry, turns out one of our best friends and the lasting legacy of Tadashi's life's work actually ISN'T coming back! Oops!"

He looks down at the chip again, and this time, instead of the circuitry behind the faded case, he catches a glimpse of the smiling face stickered onto the other side. It doesn't even look like Baymax, not really, but for some reason that image sticks in his mind, and Hiro has to brace himself against the sudden wave of _he's gone_ that slams into his memories. Obviously he misses him, but he tries not to dwell on it too much. It's not like feeling bad is going to bring him back. And he promised himself he wouldn't fall into that dark, mindless state like after Tadashi's death.

Of _course_ he misses him. Of course he wishes he could have him here, right now, to give him a hug and awkwardly tell him things will be okay, and stumble his way through a hilariously literal interpretation of grief counseling.

Hiro blinks back tears. Now, he's looking at the corner of the room, where the charging station used to be.

…Of course he misses him.

This time, it steals over him quietly, almost softly, like a blanket being pulled over his shoulders. He folds his arms and lets his head fall forward, burying his face in his sleeves. Even though there's no one up here to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, the plot of this story centers on Hiro trying to bring Baymax back. It'll be pretty different from the similar plot point in the animated series. 
> 
> A large portion of this story is already written, on my account on fanfiction.net. I'm rewriting/editing all the old content, as well as working on the ending. The story will be on the longer side; I'm not sure how many chapters yet, but I think we'll be in the ballpark of fifty. Hoping to update at least every week. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. October, 2

That single day stands out, in his memory. 

The rest of October is a blur.

He's famous, in a way. Tadashi was already one of the brightest and most popular students on campus, while the professor was a well-known faculty member. Both were catapulted into legend after the fire, and while a fair number of students are still working their way through the shock and grief, there are just as many who see the news of Callaghan's stunning and dramatic reappearance- and his subsequent arrest- as a deliciously ironic bit of gossip, and the starting point for a hundred new rumors.

Such as, say, the idea that Callaghan himself started the showcase fire.

And now the younger brother of SFIT's golden boy is not only enrolled in classes, but working on Tadashi's private research. In the very lab he used to spend time in. The same lab that _Callaghan_ used.

And did you hear? That kid was _there_ , that night. His tech blew everyone away. I heard he was even talking with Tadashi, and the professor. All three of them, right here on campus. That same night.

…It gets hard to listen to, after a while.

So, Hiro pretends. He acts like he can't hear them, when the whispers start up in the corner of the lecture hall. Or when some hulking upperclassman bumps him in the hall and throws a 'Watch it, kid’, over his shoulder, right before his friend urgently pulls him aside- _Don't you know who that is-_ and Hiro keeps his head down and hurries away before he can hear any more of the conversation.

But even that's no help, because campus itself is just as weird; with one of the biggest buildings completely destroyed, he can't go a day without thinking about it. No one can, really. Any time he's walking across the commons, it's hard not to look at the slowly-being-rebuilt shell of metal and scaffolding. And it's equally tough not to wonder if the students around him are, automatically, thinking about the fire every time they see him.

Then there's the endless parade of professors, and TA's, and literally even random students, who insist on coming up to him out of nowhere and having a heart-to-heart about their _favorite_ memories of Tadashi, and he must have been so _lucky_ to have him as a brother, and they're _so, so sorry_ that this tragedy happened, and if there's _anything_ at all he needs, he should never hesitate to ask. The first couple times, he's uncomfortable, and embarrassed, and it's tough to get through. Pretty soon, though, that's replaced by annoyance. He fights back the urge to tell them _exactly_ what they can do to help, because the campus has a pretty strict policy on cussing out the faculty.

This is _nothing_ like high school. At least there, he knew what to expect.

Here, though, it's like no one can decide how to treat him. And everyone _tries_ to figure out a way, because everyone knows him; worse, everyone thinks they have to. It's a bizarre combination of tentative respect, casual dismissal since he's so young, the occasional bully-types, emotional well-wishers who try to make every conversation about his brother, and the editorial staff of the barely-used school paper desperately trying to get him to do an interview.

Oh, right, and a month and a half of missed schoolwork doesn't help.

But he keeps his head down, and bears all the strangeness, and wades through the awkward and mundane and frustrating, because it will all be worth it. His physics courses, and robotics, and even the requisite chem and bio courses- while they're not part of his major- are all providing ample opportunities to continue his research, even if he has to shelve it for the occasional midterm paper. He's here, at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, with some of the most distinguished scholars and state-of-the-art facilities in the country, if not the world; he's literally in the perfect place to work.

That's what makes it so frustrating that he's feeling… stuck.

Excluding the chip, everything seemed simple enough, at first. He just had to reconstruct another 'body' for Baymax, similar to the original; and while the more rebellious side of him wanted to build him with the upgrades already added this time, he couldn't bring himself to change Tadashi's intended design. It wouldn't be difficult; since the bulk of the genius was in the AI, anyway, remaking the robot itself wouldn't be that different from constructing bots for the arenas.

Quickly, though, he's realizing that it's much more complicated than that. The receptors and modules that translated the chip's intelligence to movement, to audible and understandable words, to _thinking_ that moves fast enough to pass as a living being… they have to be matched perfectly. It's not just a matter of building another husk, throwing in the chip like a power source, and suddenly greeting his old friend. Every specificity of the wiring and design needs to complement the chip itself, or else it simply won't work.

And that's not even considering the fact that the data itself is corrupted. It's barely the start of the semester (for him, anyway), and he's embroiled in dozens of research papers on the basics of AI, the complexities of data recovery, the tips and tricks of working with minuscule circuit boards that have to be handled with instruments so small and precise that he almost can't see what he's doing- and it's enough to make him almost sick with frustration, that Baymax is literally within his grasp, but still so far away.

And on top of _that,_ if he's being honest, it's just… really freaking weird to suddenly be dealing with lectures and homework and papers and advisor meetings. Just weeks after flying through a pseudo-magical, a-spatial, dimension-crossing paradox portal.

So the lab becomes, gradually, more familiar. And so the rooms and spaces, crisp and clean with dividers and fluorescent lights at every turn, become something easier to picture as _workspace_ instead of _that one time being introduced to everybody, following him around and-_ and he usually stops the thought there, because dwelling on the past is only going to make things more difficult. More or less, the lab is his, now, as much as it is Honey Lemon's or Wasabi's. It was incredibly unsettling, at first, to sit down and try to get research done only yards away from where _he_ used to spend his time. But even that fades, as he gets more used to it.

It's not long before he's staying late, each day after class. And it's not tough to placate Aunt Cass; as far as she knows, he's staying to catch up on schoolwork, and she's thrilled that he's so wholeheartedly enthusiastic about college.

That’s only half a lie, so he's only half-guilty about it.

The others are a different story. At first, each of the four makes a point of staying in the lab, too, offering advice and trying to help with the research as much as possible. But over weeks, it becomes clear that a lot of this will have to fall on Hiro's shoulders; he knows Baymax's workings best from crafting the armor, and making the- the other chip. (Yet another thought he pushes away, whenever possible.) And Tadashi's research- as much as he could find in his notes, anyway- makes the most sense to him, since robotics as a field is more his specialty than anyone else's.

He still sees them every day; even Fred, who technically isn't a student at all. But one by one, they're spending less time in the lab, occasionally checking in or stopping by to chat before heading home. Or, simply working on their own assignments. And honestly, that's fine with him. More time to focus. He's sure that, more than anything, that's what he needs right now.

And that's what he gets.

"Heads up!"

"FRED, DON'T YOU DARE-"

…Usually.

On instinct (and, he supposes, somewhat ironically), he ducks- but it's nothing airborne, like the chemical reaction from last week that ended with multiple buildings being evacuated. No, this time, when he turns halfway in his chair, he yelps and darts backwards before a colorful blur can clip him as it rockets past. Within seconds, the rolling chair that seemed to be cruising at highway velocity catches on the corner of a table, and the abrupt change in momentum sends its passenger tumbling to the floor.

At a pretty impressive speed, Hiro has to admit.

Also, though, it's entirely possible that Fred now has a concussion or something. But the worry vanishes before Hiro has time to process what just happened, because Fred's immediately back on his feet, shooting a smug grin across the room where Wasabi and Honey are gaping, mouths open. "Sorry, no autogra-" He says before wincing and slowly lowering himself until he's sitting on the floor. "Ow. My knees. God, that hurts."

"Who could have seen that coming," Go Go says, without looking up from her work. She has several diagrams and pages of notes splayed out on one of the desks. It's a valiant attempt, Hiro considers, to distract herself from the antics a few yards away. "Besides, you know, anyone with functioning eyes."

"Um, rude. Insensitive." Still not getting up, Fred frowns in her direction. "What if I hit my face on the table and went blind? Huh? Ever think about that when you're planning your little zingers?"

"Yeah, but the phrase isn't literally about vision," Wasabi says. He still looks vaguely offended that this happened at all. "If you 'see it coming', it's more about thinking ahead. Which, if we're being honest- that was definitely the issue."

"Rude," Hiro echoes, grinning at the chance to jump in. Fred sends a grateful thumbs-up his way, and he waits a beat before adding, "But accurate."

Go Go snorts from across the room. A gleam in his eye- he's having fun with this, Hiro can tell- Fred rises up dramatically and crosses his arms with a huff. "I am _wounded,_ you callous fiends. My soul aches with the cold sting of betraya- _agh._ " Again, he falters and leans against the table next to him, reaching down to vaguely slap at his leg. Hiro doesn't know what he's trying to accomplish.

"Are your knees actually okay?" Honey says, and for some reason- maybe because she's clearly actually concerned, or maybe because the timing after Fred's 'wounded' line strikes Hiro as perfect- it's the funniest thing he's heard all week, and he starts laughing into his hand at the same time Fred glares at him with indignation. "Freddie, I can't always tell if you're playing it up or if you have actual medical problems!"

She sounds _so genuinely worried_ , Hiro topples out of his chair. Somewhere above him, Fred is pouting. "Honey, I'm fine. Go, how _could_ you. Hiro, buddy, you're my friend and I care about you, but I swear I will drop-kick you out this window."

"We’re on the first floor," Go Go says. "He'll fall like three feet."

"Even better, because then you'll hurt your knees, and then you will _know my pain, you heartless child._ " Okay, Hiro's friggin' _gone,_ now, because it's getting harder to tell if Fred is actually mad at him or not- which makes it _funnier_ \- and the more Hiro laughs, the more worked up Fred gets, and this is a vicious cycle if ever he's seen one.

"And _you_ ," Fred says in an accusing tone. When Hiro finally looks up, he's pointing at Wasabi, apparently determined to sling some kind of vengeful declaration at each of them. "Instead of sarcastic commentary and _wry, witty observations-"_

"Thank you."

"Of course," Fred acknowledges, then switches back to angry mode. "Instead of all _that,_ how 'bout a "You're welcome, Fred," because I'm pretty sure I just did like half your research for you!"

Now that he's had a second to get the giggling under control, Hiro pulls himself into his chair again. "How's that?" he says innocently, trying not to grin when Fred gives him another look of _you don't get to speak, traitor._

Honey Lemon sighs. "…We're working on a laser-based propulsion system, and Wasabi mentioned that we'd need a better testing area, since the floor in here isn't steady enough to gauge speed for wheeled machines."

"Yeah, and obviously that's bogus, so I proved it." Fred says. "Here, I'll show you."

"DON'T DO IT AGAIN," Wasabi yells, somehow sounding both pleading and soul-weary, and Hiro can't help it- he's collapsed against the arm of the chair, laughing so hard he can't catch his breath. He wonders if everyone else is so used to their unique brand of dysfunction that they don't even find it funny, anymore. Or maybe he's just losing it.

That wasn't really a serious thought, but it does lead to another: the notion that, possibly… he kinda needed this. It feels good to laugh himself stupid. And to have a moment that doesn't really matter, where he doesn't have to think. Or worry.

Hopefully he won't start using Fred as a comedic punching bag to de-stress. Although, that in itself is a funny enough mental image that he keeps laughing.

"So you're not actually hurt, right?" Honey asks.

"Nah. All's well that ends well. And hey, we even got bona-fide sciencey goodness out of it. This is a win."

"So… like, you can walk?"

" _This is a win."_

"I think you broke that rolling chair."

"I SAID IT'S A WIN," Fred declares, aggressively cheerful, but Hiro doesn't have time to start laughing again, because he's distracted by the tell-tale sound of his phone buzzing, so he should probably…

Wait.

Oh, _crap._

He darts over to where he left his backpack on the desk, because that's also where he left his phone, so he wouldn't have _heard_ it going off since he was lost in concentration, and then distracted by the shenanigans going on… and, honestly, he hasn't been keeping track of the time-

He clicks the screen on, and sees the clock readout.

This is not good.

He glances over the missed calls and texts.

This is _not good._

Hiro dials the number that's blaring across the screen, trying to stifle the mental chant of _I'm in trouble, I'm in trouble, I'm in so much friggin' trouble_ , and waits in dread for the ringing to stop. He doesn't have to wait long.

"I'm so sorry," he says immediately, when he's pretty sure the call has gone through. "I love you, and I'm sorry, and-"

"Hiro Hamada."

Bad. Definitely bad. And he's pretty sure the others heard that- he groans and slaps his forehead, because he _really_ should have ducked out of the lab before starting this call. "Hey, Aunt Cass," he says with as much sincerity and regret as he can muster. Maneuvering past desks and chairs, he slips into the hallway and takes a few more steps until he can hear her pretty clearly, and can't hear the others. And until he's fairly sure the others can't hear _her._ "I'm fine. I'm- everything's fine. I just didn't check my phone. Sorry."

"Oh, honey, thank goodness." She sounds tired, and relieved, and Hiro wants to smack himself in the forehead. "How about I cut out the middleman and give _myself_ a heart attack next time."

"Uh, yeah," he says nervously. "…Sorry again?"

"Hiro. You realize how late it is, right?"

Well, yeah, obviously he does _now._ He pulls the phone away for a second and groans again- the annoyed, teenager-stereotype _uugh_ that Cass absolutely hates- and he falls back against one of the walls next to some lockers. "Yeah, I- I know. I just got caught up with some research, and I didn't think about checking the time-"

"You know I trust you! You know I think it's important that you make your own schedule, and make your own decisions, but- if you're going to be out late, you need to let me know." She pauses, and it sounds like she's trying to calm down. "…Or at the _very_ least, I need to be able to get ahold of you."

"You're right. I know, you're right, I wasn't-"

"You can't just keep _saying_ that, you know. I'm not looking for an apology, I just want you to- I don’t know, _work_ with me here."

"I will. I will, next time, I-" He can already tell this is going nowhere. This exchange is starting to feel all too familiar. "I promise, alright?"

"You've said that before. Hiro, I need you to understand that there's a difference between what you _say_ and what you _do_ , and you can't just-"

"Look, I said I'm sorry!" And there it is, _theeeeere's_ the slight edge and ever-so-noticeable raised voice that has never ever actually HELPED the situation, and _God_ , he's frustrated with himself for letting that slip out. Cass is quiet for a second, and Hiro's swamped by the awful, clinging sensation in his chest that he can only describe as a feeling of 'I just screwed up, and it's already too late to take it back'.

Even better: the silent couple of seconds where he just has to _wait._

"…Hiro."

"I'm sorry," he says again, quieter this time- even though she just said she's not looking for apologies- and grits his teeth, mashing the palm of his hand against his forehead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that- that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have yelled, and…"

He trails off, because he doesn't know what to say next. He had a burst of panic and regret, but it's not translating into coherent words, so he's stuck here, holding his phone and staring blankly into the distance like an idiot. And Cass is still doing the silent treatment thing.

…Or maybe she doesn't know what to say, either.

"I'll be home soon," he says, eventually. "I'm leaving now, so… twenty minutes, probably."

"Okay." She's more reserved now. He can't tell what she's thinking. "You took the tram, right?"

"Yeah." He absolutely hates feeling this guilty. And showing up at home to apologize in person isn't likely to fix very much. "Alright, see you soon."

"Hiro?"

He pauses. "…Yeah?"

There's another bit of silence, and he tries to calm down, imagining how angry and disappointed Cass probably is right now- no, no, that is NOT calming, God, that's the _opposite_ of calm, so he just takes a deep breath and waits.

"Look, I- I know I worry too much. And I'm sure…" Cass stops, sounding more quiet and hesitant than he's heard in a long time. "I'm sure I need to- dial it back, I guess. But- I also need you to meet me halfway, alright?"

It catches him off guard, for some reason, and he stammers until he can collect his thoughts. "…Y-yeah. Of course."

"Good. Thank you." Another pause, and Hiro realizes his other hand is clenched tight in a fist. "I'm not… the perfect aunt, or anything, and we're not exactly a normal family, but…"

A stray thought pulls at Hiro's attention, and he is momentarily absolutely sure that she's about to say _'But we're all we have left.'_

She doesn't. "But that's okay," she finishes, shaky, like someone talking into the wind. "We'll make it okay."

It sounds like she's trying to convince herself. Hiro lets out a breath, and tries very hard not to think about that. "Yeah," he repeats, and it sounds dumb, but it's something. "Yeah."

"Right." He's pretty sure he hears her sniff, just for a second, then- "I'll see you soon," she says, more steady now.

"Yeah," he says again- wow, he's really just a friggin' encyclopedia of intelligent vocabulary today- and briefly, considers adding another 'sorry', but he exhales and mutters, "Bye."

"Alright. I love you."

_Blip._

…As if he didn't already feel like a jerk. He was already moving his thumb to end the call when she said that, so he wasn't _trying_ to very clearly reject that last line- still, he exhales loudly and switches to texting for a quick 'love you too'.

It's a tradition, kind of. She made it something of a family rule, that any fight- no matter how big or small the argument- had to end with both people saying 'I love you'. Half the time, it was yelled through closed doors or muttered with a glare, but they had it for as long as he can remember. Hiro always thought it was kind of stupid.

Tadashi liked it, though.

"You okay?"

Slightly startled, he looks up to see Go Go leaning her head out of the lab's entrance. "For sure," he says on instinct. "Just, uh, I should- probably get home. Didn't realize how late it was."

"Alright." She glances back inside. "I'm sure Wasabi could give you a ride, if you need-"

"No, that's fine." He didn't really mean to interrupt her. Geez, there have been too many weird, small moments of social awkwardness in the last few minutes. He winces again. "I, uh, took the tram. That's- I mean- thanks, though."

She wasn't even the one offering the ride, so saying thanks was another flub- but she just shrugs and heads back inside. And now, he realizes, he still has to walk back into the lab to grab his stuff- knowing everyone just heard the beginning of a tense argument with his aunt- and then walk right back out. Fun.

But even though he's not really looking forward to that, his mind keeps wandering to Aunt Cass. She sounded… really worried, honestly. And that hit him like a punch to the gut, but it also made it awfully easy to make the jump to irritated-and-snappy, so now he's… ugh. It just feels rotten.

He shakes his head, and starts back towards the lab.

The last thing he wants to do is make her worry.


	3. October, 3

_“The terrorist attack three weeks ago sparked a series of questions that have yet to be answered. Primarily, the city wants to know- how could Robert Callaghan, beloved professor and genius scholar, also be a relentless would-be murderer? How can we make sure something like this doesn’t happen again?”_

_“But perhaps the most mysterious question of all, with the least amount of available information- who were those suspicious heroes, at the scene of the attack? How did they know what would be happening? Why have they disappeared, and where are they now?”_

_“The so-called “Big Heroes”, who seemed primed to dominate the news after their dramatic confrontation with Callaghan and the subsequent reappearance of his daughter- a pilot working with Krei Industries, thought dead after a tragic accident months ago- have suddenly vanished from the face of the earth after a single, hectic moment in the spotlight. Both in online discussion rooms and citizen polls, consensus seems to be that this group is likely responsible for the rescue of Abigail Callaghan, and the concurring arrest of Robert Callaghan. However, some contradicting accounts suggest that the Heroes were themselves responsible for much of the damage at the scene.”_

_“Verified reports are difficult to come by, but speculation has connected the attack with the tragic fire at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, when Robert Callaghan was thought to have been killed-”_

_Click._

Cass turns off the TV.

She’s never liked this story. Sure, the home-grown heroes are pretty popular, and there’s a certain pride around the city since New York gets most of the superhero scene, but… Callaghan is from San Fransokyo, too.

They’ll always be linked. A masked man appears downtown, collapsing a building and attempting to kill a local business magnate. He’s arrested- but then, as soon as his identity is leaked to the press, a shadow of conspiracy and scandal is cast back through time, onto the infamous fire. He was thought dead, after all. Cue the news reports, and the media latching onto any details like ticks- and suddenly, Cass has to watch her step around the café to avoid running into the myriad reporters who seem to materialize out of the air.

“Ma’am, if you could just answer a few questions- do you think your nephew’s death is in any way connected to Robert Callaghan’s dramatic reappearance?”

The first time, she allows herself to indulge in the anger, asking the man if he could repeat his words, just to be sure she’s hearing him right. Then, she informs him that she can’t let him know exactly what she thinks of the question- after all, there are children in the restaurant, and besides, she’d rather not have them witness an act of physical violence. Then, she smiles sweetly and asks him to please vacate the premises.

It feels pretty good.

…The next six times, she doesn’t have the energy.

“Excuse me?”

Startled, she nearly drops the remote- a young woman sitting at a table across from the window is looking her way, with a short haircut and a tilt of her head. There are only two or three people in the café at all, but she should have checked to see if anyone was hoping to keep the report going. Even if it _was_ a little hard to stomach. “Oh, I’m- I’m sorry,” Cass says, dreading what she’s about to hear more of. “I was just- I’ll get it back, here. Just a second.”

“No, that’s fine!” She’s giving her an easygoing smile. “Actually, I was wondering if you get the channel with the game?”

Once again, she’s flummoxed for a moment. Then, the gratitude breaks out in a smile of her own. “…Baseball. Right. I- Absolutely. I just need to…”

Normal. Nothing particularly special. Just a baseball game.

“I think it’s on 9, if that helps,” the woman says. “It’s not a huge problem.”

“No, I can find it.” With the television on again, Cass fiddles with the remote and tries to bring up the guide.

_“-with theories ranging from ridiculous to plausible, it would be difficult to avoid the questions surrounding the suspect. For example, some have pointed to the proliferation of advanced, cutting-edge technology present at the school’s annual Showcase on the night of the fire. The only student to be killed in the fire, Tadashi Hamada, happened to be the brother of one of the most prominent presenters, a prospective student who demonstrated an incredible and experimental system of robotics, that also seemed to be present when Callaghan attacked the-”_

Of all the times for the ‘mute’ button to be stuck. Cass does her best not to listen- still, when the button clicks and the audio finally fades, she can’t help but feel relieved.

From across the room, there’s a small gasp, and when she turns- “Oh, no,” the woman says, with a hand against her mouth. “I- I didn’t even realize. I’m sure that’s the _last_ thing you want to hear. I-”

“It’s alright,” Cass says quickly, trying for the reassuring smile again, but she’s sure it isn’t very convincing. “Really, it’s- it’s fine. Besides, it’s not your fault.”

As if she didn’t even hear her, the woman shakes her head. “I’m _so_ sorry,” she says, and now there’s an angry scowl as she looks back up at the screen. “I wish they wouldn’t keep _talking_ about it like this. It’s- the whole thing, I just- it’s awful.”

The game flickers to life on the screen, but Cass is lost in thought for a few seconds before she realizes it’s still muted. She brings the volume to a reasonably quiet level for a café, then notices she still hasn’t responded. “Y-yeah,” she says softly. “I- you’re right, it is.”

“Oh, God, you’re probably _sick_ of people telling you that- as if we have any clue what it’s like.” The woman seems to be rambling, now, and she closes her eyes like she’s trying to regain her composure. “I’m sorry. I only meant to- I wanted to say, I’m sorry for everything that happened, and I’m especially sorry that those _toads_ -” The anger in her voice returns as she jerks her head towards the screen. “-treat people _dying_ like it’s the latest celebrity gossip- I swear, it’s like people get off on goddamn _tragedy-”_

O-kay. That takes Cass by surprise, and she blinks a few times with her mouth open, not sure what to say. “Oh, I’m _sorry,”_ the woman says again, almost like she’s panicking. “That was so inappropriate, and I-”

“Really, it’s fine.” That’s not entirely true, but clearly her heart’s in the right place- and honestly, Cass has to admit that this is a _little_ bit funny. “I appreciate it. It’s alright.”

“I’m screwing this all up,” the woman says sadly. “I thought I’d be all understanding, and respectful, and now it’s just… Ugh. I’m sorry again.” There’s a hint of humor in her voice, like she’s a bit less worried about the whole thing.

“I’m telling you, it’s no problem.” Hesitantly, Cass tries to return some of the joking. “I can kick you out, if it’d make you feel better.”

She stares at Cass with a shocked expression- but just before Cass can hurriedly explain that she was just kidding, the woman smiles widely and even chuckles. “…Okay, you got me. I- I didn’t, um- I was-” Still stuttering, she eventually sighs again. “Thanks for understanding.”

Cass just nods, this time. “Enjoy the game,” she says brightly, before turning to the register to start the records from the lunch hour. The whole thing is still kind of funny- and she tries her best to be distracted by that, instead of anything else.

After all, she’ll have to find a way to deal with it. This is hardly the last conversation she’ll have about the subject.

The afternoon hours are as slow as she expects. Eventually, she’s alone in the lobby- and no one’s come in for an early dinner yet, so there’s no sound but the quiet commercials coming from the TV behind her. Cass is clearing the tables when she notices a red scarf left by the window- that woman must have forgotten it, earlier.

Huh. If Cass had a name, or a phone number, she could get it back to her, but… as is, she can’t really do anything except hold onto it and hope she comes back some other time. She had… black hair? She’s pretty sure? Would she recognize her after a few days of more customers? Who knows.

She stashes the scarf in one of the drawers by the register, once again thinking about the bizarre conversation. The kind, slightly eccentric woman; but also the random folks who start up a conversation with her more days than not, who are genuinely kind and concerned. People who make her days a little easier. She needs to… keep thinking about those things.

Not the news reports, and the way that- they had a few good points, and she can’t stop replaying them in her head, and there was that one video on the news she watched a week ago, of the attack, and there were those awful black machines flying around- and they almost looked a _bit_ like Hiro’s showcase project-

And she can’t remember exactly where Hiro was that day.

_Don’t._

She cuts off the thoughts, grabbing the counter in front of her to steady herself after a moment of dizziness. She can’t… think like that. It’s too painful. And ominous, and somehow _tempting-_ she can see the draw of conspiracy theories, because there’s something there, something that _wants_ to piece together a mystery and pull back lies until something is discovered, that- whispers to her _you’re wrong, there’s something more, something terrible, you don’t understand_ -

But this is _Hiro._ And the fire. And Tadashi, and that awful masked face that kept appearing in the news; and involving her boys in any of that twisted, awful world is simply too much.

If the story keeps changing, and keeps developing… she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to handle it.

She takes a few deep breaths, looking down at the open drawer, with the red scarf bunched up inside.


	4. October, 4

“ _Duuuuuude.”_

Hiro rolls his eyes, but a smile gets through. “Hey, Fred.”

He turns around in his chair, squinting against the dim ceiling lights of the garage as he tries to pick out where Fred is- just before the man himself bounds through the open entrance, literally skipping, and vaults over the old sofa across from Hiro’s workstation, immediately flopping down onto the worn-out cushions with a contented sigh. It strikes Hiro as, somehow, both incredibly lazy and full of energy. “Ta-daaaa,” Fred sing-songs as he waves both hands in the air above him. Then, he appears to remember something, and twists around to look at Hiro with a scowl. “Alright, buddy, you got some ‘splaining to do.”

“About wh-” Pausing, Hiro blinks and looks back to the raised garage door. “Did… did you walk here?”

“Dude. Please. Stay on topic. This is important.” Fred is waving something in front of his face.

Hiro purposefully ignores it. “I mean, that would have taken _forever_ , right? That’s not- that’s not a short trip.”

“Irrelevant. Listen.”

“I mean, I guess Heathcliff could drive you, but then… is he just hanging out, waiting for you-”

“ _Hirooooo,”_ Fred whines. There’s a paper in his hands, and- still lying on the couch- he thrusts it forward until the pages are nearly brushing Hiro’s face.

At this point, it’s kinda fun. Straight-faced, Hiro looks right at Fred. “Do you just wander the city on foot like some kinda weird rich hobo?”

“Hiro Jeffrey Hamada, so help me, I will suplex you over this couch.”

“No, you won’t.” He pauses again. “…Jeffrey? Seriously, that’s your best guess?”

“What’s wrong with Jeffrey? It’s-” Eyes going wide, Fred scrambles to sit up and points an accusing finger. “I won’t let you distract me! Trickster! You must answer my query!”

“My name’s _Hiro Hamada,”_ he says slowly, with probably just a bit of sarcasm. “And you guessed… Jeffrey.”

“You know what? I don’t even _want_ to ask you anymore.” In a huff, Fred shoves the paper back in his pocket, folding his arms like he’s an angry toddler. “So there.”

Hiro stares at him, like he’s considering it, then shrugs. “K.”

He turns back to his computer, just before Fred loudly groans and probably flops over again. “Noooooo. You’re breaking my heart, man. Don’t do this.”

“Sorry,” he says, only half-paying attention, his focus back on the screen. “You’ll get over me.”

“Scoundrel! All I asked was your affection! Where will I go? What will I do?”

“Sorry,” he says again. It’s hard to come up with good jokes when he’s distracted. “I’m in a committed relationship. With, um, science.”

“I won’t be the side chick to _science!_ She can’t treat you like I can!”

Welp. That’s what he gets for trying to banter with Fred. No one outdoes Fred. Grimacing, Hiro shoots him a glare. “Okay, God, that got weird. Jokes time is over. No more jokes.”

“Never!” Fred proclaims, then pauses. For a second, he looks serious, too. “Yo, are- are you okay? You look exhausted, man.”

“Huh? I’m fine.” Hiro squints at him, before sighing and turning back to the screen.

“Uh… alright, cool! Now-” He stops, probably grabbing the paper out of his pocket again. “Reveal unto me, if you can, what _this_ is.”

“Sorry, can’t see it,” he responds, still focused on the information in front of him. Fred’s petulant _No fair, you said jokes time was over_ sounds out behind him, but it’s easy enough to ignore. The program he has on this computer isn’t the _best_ for analyzing data, much less code as complex as what’s on the chip; but if he can isolate the problems individually, then it’ll be a lot easier to keep doing the work at the lab, too, even if he can’t modify the board here at home. He frowns thoughtfully, because even though he _knows_ that the data is corrupted, the program is having trouble distinguishing errors from algorithms so advanced that it doesn’t recognize them as legitimate codes.

Which… makes sense. If Tadashi did most of his work at the lab, with state-of-the-art facilities… Hiro grits his teeth, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner. He’s basically trying to share work between a supercomputer and an alarm clock, and acting surprised when it doesn’t work perfectly. Yet another problem he didn’t anticipate.

“Hiro. This. Here. In my hands. Tell me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he’s vaguely aware that Fred is waving something at him. He pushes his fingers against his temples. He _can’t_ spend unlimited hours on campus. Even if they kept the lab open and running for him, Cass would never let him stay out even later than he already has.

But there’s no other way around it, if that’s the only place with enough sheer computing power to get the work done. And it’s not going nearly fast enough; he has to devote so much time to his classes, and getting roped into helping out at the café, and the squad showing up to talk to him all the time, that he feels like the research is becoming a lower priority. That can’t happen.

Hell, even things like eating and sleeping suddenly seem like they’re taking up _huge_ chunks of time from the day. Luckily, he’s been able to cut those down slightly to save precious hours.

Still, it’s aggravating.

“Eh.” Now the hand is closer, waving the paper in front of his face once more. “Eh. Hiro. Explanatio-”

Without warning, Fred yelps and tumbles off the couch, apparently reaching just a bit too far. For a moment, he just blinks up at the garage’s ceiling, then turns his head slightly so he can glare at Hiro. With a very serious expression, he holds out the paper again, making no move to get up. “Eh.”

Hiro holds the eye contact for three full seconds, making sure he gets the most out of his _unimpressed_ face, then sighs and finally grabs it from him. “I don’t think we’ve cleaned that floor in, like, a couple y-”

He stops.

_MYSTERIOUS GROUP PREVENTS DISASTER AT KREI INDUSTRIES_

His fingers feel colder, when they brush the edge of the newspaper clipping. He kinda wants to say something snarky back to Fred, kinda wants to shrug it off like no big deal, kinda wants to rip it up until it’s nothing but tatters. But he doesn’t do anything. His face is going red, and he doesn’t know why.

“Well? Did you know about this?” Finally, Fred is back on his feet, and smugly leaning down to re-read the article. “We’re famous, man!”

This is- this is wrong. Something about this just feels… weird. And embarrassing. And _sad_ , somehow, twisting up his guts until he’d rather bolt out of the house than finish this conversation. But he swallows, and hands it back to Fred. “You know this is from weeks ago, right?”

“Yeah.” He spreads his arms wide. “So, _why didn’t you tell me about it?”_

“Five different stations ran a TV thing, like, ten minutes after it happened.” He shrugs. “Besides, isn’t tracking superhero stuff on the news more _your_ thing?”

Fred gives him an incredulous look. “Hiro, come on! You don’t care about this? It’s our first big victory as a team, and now it’s immortalized forever! This is something you could frame, or- or print on a giant poster thing, and, like-”

Like a rubber band snapping, the sudden realization of just what they’re talking about- talking about _loudly-_ hits Hiro, and he leaps to his feet. “Dude!” he hisses. “Keep your voice down!”

“What?” If possible, he looks even more baffled. “What’d I do?”

The newspaper clip slipped out of Hiro's hand at some point, but he doesn’t really care. “We don’t exactly have soundproof walls, okay? Just-” Fuming, he runs his hands through his hair and sits back down. “Just try to be more careful.”

The wheels squeak as the chair turns, and he’s facing the computer again. His face is still burning. The garage is, pretty suddenly, quiet.

“…Hiro.” He doesn’t turn to look at Fred. “You, uh… your aunt doesn’t know?”

That sick twist in his stomach only gets worse, and Hiro keeps his eyes on the screen. Data inputs, that aren’t helping him in the slightest. Useless information, running over and over across the screen.

“I honestly thought she knew the _whole_ time.” Fred gives a nervous laugh, and- he actually sounds pretty freaked out right now. “Oh my God, dude, she- she knows about Baymax, at least, right?”

Hiro’s throat is completely dry. But even if it wasn’t, he can’t think of a single response.

“…Seriously?” There’s a soft noise behind him, like Fred just fell back down onto the sofa. “You didn’t- she doesn’t know _any_ of it?”

When the words finally come, they’re raspy and weak. Pitiful, honestly. He hates hearing them. “I couldn’t just tell her,” he mutters. “We were… going after wanted criminals. We flew over the ocean. We could have died, like, fifty times.”

“Yeah, but-” Fred stops, and Hiro eventually turns a little so he can see him; he’s staring down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs back and forth with a concerned slant to his eyebrows. “But he’s _Baymax._ I mean, he- he’s…” Fred swallows and glances up at Hiro, with an uncertain frown. “He’s Tadashi’s.”

He absolutely hates how sometimes, just the name is enough to make him angry. It’s not rational, it’s not- it’s not _anything_ ; it’s just there, suddenly, and he can’t _do_ something about it. “I know,” he says, and it sounds like another snap; he closes his eyes, pinching his forehead with both hands. “But he- it’s just- there’s too much.”

His words tumble out without making much sense, and Fred’s expression doesn’t change. “It’s too much,” Hiro repeats, and his fingers splay open so they’re pushing against his skull like maybe that will somehow take away the pressure. “Everyone in the city saw a giant robot on the news, Fred. If she learns any of it now, she’ll know- and she’ll- it’ll be _obvious_ , and I can’t- I can’t tell her _now._ There’s no way.”

Fred’s silent for a while. Hiro dimly notices the computer screen has gone black, from not being used in a few minutes. Still, he doesn’t take his hands away from his head.

“So… when?” Fred asks quietly.

_Never_ , is Hiro’s first thought, but he doesn’t say it _even though it’s true_ because it sounds cowardly, and impossible, and stupid, and- God, he’s been so _dumb_ about all this, but it just makes him feel even more trapped no matter which way he turns, and he can’t figure it out-

“I don’t know,” he says at last. He can see the two of them, reflected in the computer screen. Fred looks worried, watching him with sad eyes and a nervous twitch in his hands as he rubs at his wrists. And for Hiro’s part, he looks- honestly, he looks awful. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light in the dim tint of the reflection, but-

…actually, yeah, that’s why he looks so pale. In a regular mirror, he’d look a lot more normal. Nothing to worry about, really. Still, it’s weird to see how washed-out and sickly his face looks this way, with the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. No wonder Fred asked if he was alright. Weird how he can look so worn-out, even though he’s fine.

Physically, at least. He closes his eyes and tries to calm down, letting the panic of talking about Cass dissipate until he’s at least a bit less freaked out. At the same time, strangely, he has to stifle a yawn- he realizes he’s pretty tired, but it somehow feels like he’s been at this level for a while, and only just now noticed.

He shakes his head. Just another reason he needs to stop wasting time, and get back to work. But before he reaches for the mouse, Fred coughs behind him. “Man, I’m not- I’m not the best person for this, but…” When Hiro turns, Fred looks away and awkwardly reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Do you, like- talk to anybody about all this? Everything, I mean. The hero stuff, and Baymax, and- Tadashi?”

Well, isn’t that just the million-dollar question.

A dozen responses are about to rip themselves out of Hiro’s lungs, but he shoves them back down. At the very least, Fred’s finally speaking more quietly. “Obviously it doesn’t have to be me, but… probably someone else from the group, you know? Who already knows it all. Like, Honey’s great with this kind of stuff.”

His reflection blinks back at him, ghostly-white and dark at the same time.

If he’s honest, if he tries to think back and remember the last real, painful, hard-hitting conversation he’s had with _anyone_ \- it was Baymax. Because he _could_ talk to Baymax about stuff like this, even if- even if he was frustrating sometimes, and didn’t always understand what to do or say, or- even when he stopped Hiro in his tracks and asked him if this was what Tadashi would have-

But even before that, it was… It was Tadashi. About high school and bullies and not having friends and being scared, and- and questions, late at night, about the world, and growing up, and what happens to people when they die, and _do you remember anything about them, because sometimes I think I can remember what Mom looked like but I’m not sure-_

Hah. And now, both his confidantes are gone.

It’s almost funny.

“Not anymore,” he says before he can think it through, and that probably doesn’t exactly make sense to Fred- but he doesn’t ask again, and Hiro doesn’t say anything else. The suspicion that he just shot down a concerned and friendly attempt at helping him slowly grows until he swears he can _hear_ the weighted silence in the room.

He probably should. He pictures a therapist’s office, and a little yellow notepad, and one of those weird long couches, and maybe the shrink is Wasabi with a different hairstyle and thick glasses and a bunch of droning questions about _how does that make you feeeeeel_ \- and then he scowls, because pouring out his soul about all this is the last thing he needs right now. Thinking too much and getting lost in his own head… that’s the _problem_ , not the solution.

Besides.

There’s work to do.

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?” he says bluntly, and doesn’t turn to Fred to see if he’s hurt by the callous dismissal. Yeah, he probably killed the conversation a bit more abruptly than he needed to, but whatever. Finally, he brings the screen back to life and checks the progress of the data analysis.

_Abysmal_ is the first word that comes to mind. He grits his teeth. He’ll probably need to redo this section completely, at the lab tomorrow- any results he gets back now will be pretty much useless.

Now, if Fred could just leave already, he can start figuring out what he _can_ work on next. If he allows one trip back to the kitchen for some more water, and another to the bathroom at some point, that’ll still leave a solid two and a half hours before Aunt Cass starts to get worried-

“Uh… yeah! Yeah, for sure,” Fred says, sounding _way_ too cheery, given what they were just talking about. “I wanted to, uh- ask you, if, like-”

Hiro still doesn’t turn and look at him. The guy’s desperately trying to think of something to talk about, just so he doesn’t have to leave and feel like this whole evening was a waste of time. Which it basically _was,_ honestly. He feels a twinge of regret, at thinking so disdainfully of one of his friends. Whatever, though. He’s tired. It’s no big deal.

“Oh! Right!” Fred snaps his fingers. “I was gonna ask you about the movie! See, I already voted for _Zombatman 3,_ and I figured that was in the bag since Honey’s a lock for anything with zombies; but then, Go totally hits us with the ‘sudden but inevitable betrayal’ thing because she wants to see some cheesy romcom? And now outta nowhere the vote’s two against two, since Wasabi doesn’t really do blood- he _says_ he hates action movie clichés, but don’t listen to him, it’s totally the blood- so basically we’re at a stalemate, here, and if you don’t come through for me on this one we’re all gonna be stuck watching _The Last Rose Petal_ and watching Wasabi bawl his eyes out. Which, I guess that’s a silver lining now that I think about it, but still. Zombies, man. It’s gotta be the zombos. And it’s all up to you.”

At some point, Hiro turned around in his chair to respond- but Fred just kept going, and now that he’s finally finished he’s just looking at him with an expectant grin. Hiro blinks a few times, trying to work his way through the tonal shift that just slammed into his brain like a tsunami. “I have,” he said eventually, “no idea what you’re talking about, man.”

Also, shouldn’t Fred be kinda mad at him, right now? Or at least annoyed, and… less _peppy?_ Seriously, it’s getting pretty awkward, because Hiro very clearly shut down the heart-to-heart conversation Fred was going for, but now he’s… back to joking around and talking about movies like everything’s fine.

Wait. No. Isn’t that just what Hiro was arguing, earlier- that everything’s fine? He furrows his brow, because- now, that doesn’t really make sense. He wasn’t-

“Hiro, you’re killing me.” Dramatically, Fred flops back down onto the couch. “Movie night, remember? We’ve been planning this one since, like, two weeks ago. But we couldn’t decide what to see, so we figured we’d wait it out and choose once we got closer, but now thanks to Go Go’s traitorous ways, I am at a very real risk of seeing a movie about some people arguing and maybe kissing, instead of a movie where _zombie superheroes definitely fight zombie supervillains._ ” He raises a finger, still on his back, as if adding another point he just thought of. “And I know I have said some very harsh words about _Zombatman 2_ , but I like to think of this as an opportunity to have an open mind and choose to see goodness in the world instead of cynicism. Because that, at the end of the day, is what seeing movies is all about, my man. And I know I already said that in the group chat, but it’s worth repeating.”

…what the hell? Pretty much one-hundred-percent of this is sounding like brand-new information to Hiro. He’s torn between laughing at Fred’s antics, ignoring him and getting back to the computer, and just… wondering how he doesn’t remember any of this. “We… have a group chat?” he says, feeling awfully far behind in this conversation.

“Oh, my _dude._ ” Fred pulls off a pretty substantial _you disappoint me_ look, then scoffs. “I’ll address that thing you just said later. More urgently-” He leans up on his elbows, looking up at Hiro from the couch like a little kid. “Thoughts? Zombie-related thoughts? You know what you need to do. You know your destiny.”

For a second, Hiro just opens his mouth without saying anything- and shuts it again, because-

“Hiro?” He frowns, and actually sits up. “You alright?”

…ah, damnit.

This is such a _stupid_ way to have a dramatic, sudden realization.

Hiro’s head is spinning, and Fred’s still looking at him without his usual smile, because now he’s worried again- Fred, who gets really excited about movie night, who genuinely tried to suggest Hiro get some help, who spins jokes as easily as other people breathe, who’ll do anything to make his friends laugh and feel better and see the world with more hope. Fred, who he- he doesn’t know.

The thought hits him like a train.

“Bud?”

He’s been thinking of Fred as slightly annoying, pushy, loud, excitable. And before that- too eager to rush into danger, still working on his aim with the fire, hoping to get better control of the superjump, not great with stealth missions- because that’s what Hiro knows about him.

He was a good distraction, the couple times they had a real fight. He was able to hold his own while the others got in some good hits- and then, when Yokai’s focus was somewhere else, Fred was able to jump in and throw him off with another brash and attention-grabbing series of attacks.

_That’s what Hiro knows about him._ And now, that’s gone, too.

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing his eyes so he has an excuse to stop looking at him. “Sorry, just- kinda zoned out, I guess.”

The thoughts pour in, now, and he can’t stop them. What _exactly_ did he ever have in common with Fred, besides- besides Tadashi, and then the team, and _Baymax_ \- and right now, literally all of that is gone.

The awkward silence is back. _Like it always is, because Hiro doesn’t know how to talk to him- any of them- without Tadashi, because they’re HIS friends- they always were-_

God. He’s really only known them for a couple weeks.

And in storms the hazy, creeping sense of guilt. But at the same time- with another person sitting only a few feet away from him- Hiro suddenly feels very, very alone.

_“-never should have let you-”_

It’s cold and strong and condemning, and he can’t avoid the weight that seems to be pressing down on him again. And it’s- all of them, now that he thinks about it. He doesn’t really _ask_ them about their lives. Or normal, everyday stuff. Earlier, Fred asked if he talks to any of them about… the hard things, the painful things, but he hasn’t even talked about the _stupid_ things. Movie night. Stories from high school. How they met. Hell, how did they meet his brother? Another random example jumps into the forefront of his mind- he’s not entirely sure what Wasabi’s first name is. He’s _pretty_ sure someone called him Barry once, but no one really ever uses it, so…

It hits him, again, that it’s really only been _weeks._ And here he is, trying to pretend like- like they’re his _friends,_ like he thinks he deserves to- to-

“-hear what I said?”

He snaps to the present, realizing that he missed whatever Fred was asking him. He fights another yawn, and rubs at his face again- “Sorry,” he repeats, which is basically becoming automatic at this point. “I’m just- I’m not really…”

“Dude.” Fred’s not smiling, but frowning in worry- it’s an expression Hiro almost never sees, with him. “…You sure you’re alright?”

…

For some reason, that strikes Hiro as a really stupid question.

…

He shrugs, and lies. “It’s been a day,” he mumbles. “Just… need to get more sleep, probably.”

“Hah. Yeah.” It sounds weirdly sarcastic, almost, but coming from Fred… probably not, right? And Fred’s looking down at the ground, so he can’t really read his face. It’s tough not to immediately think that he’s lying again, and Fred knows it.

He feels like an impostor.

_“-let you help me-”_

Fred stands, suddenly, and puts his hands in his pockets. “Well,” he says brightly- another dissonant change, like he’s stepped into a performance or something- “Good to hear things are going well, man. Probably see you around?”

Dimly, he hears himself say something in the affirmative, some _sure_ or _cool_ or _yeah_ , and pretty soon Fred’s waltzing out of the garage, as if… Hiro bites down, and doesn’t finish the thought, because the words ‘everything’s fine’ are _really_ starting to sound obnoxious for some reason.

It’s really, really quiet without Fred.

…Well, that’s just true in general, he thinks wryly. It doesn’t make him smile. And if he closes his eyes, or keeps sitting here without moving- not just the exhaustion, but the memory of the whole conversation keeps turning over in his head, making him feel like there are weights on his arms and legs, like he can’t do anything else but _think_ , and shrink down until he’s crushed by all of it.

But-

It’s-

…it’s alright.

“Unbelievable,” he says out loud, and it kind of startles him because he’s not sure what he’s referring to. He flexes his shoulders back, and there’s a _click_ in his spine- his knuckles crack a bit, and his neck sort of hurts when he stands up to stretch briefly.

He has no intention of ‘getting more sleep’ tonight.

But hey, what’s one more lie?


	5. October, 5

_Look, just so we're clear, I don't WANT to be writing this._

_...But. Here we are, anyway._

...

...

...

When you’ve been running an independent restaurant as long as Cass Hamada has, the work is no longer complicated, nor is it particularly difficult. However, it remains _busy._

Hikari quit five days ago, since she finally got the internship she was hoping for. And Andrew is down to only about ten hours a week, mostly Saturdays and Sundays, since school has started back up; in effect, half of the Lucky Cat’s part-time employment has dried up just like that. She is, as much as she hates to admit it, actually a bit glad that business has been slow recently; with how shortstaffed the restaurant is, there’s no way they’d be able to make it through each dinner rush otherwise. And she _can’t_ keep asking Mr. Youzu to help out in the mornings, even if he _is_ such a sweetheart that he obliges every time.

And T-

…and _Hiro_ never helped out that much, to begin with; even less so, with his current schoolwork. In short, she’s drastically shorthanded, and she needs employees.

Which is what makes it so surprising, when Ethel Tomago waltzes through the front door of the café and slams a résumé down on the counter.

…Or maybe not that surprising, she supposes. She does have a ‘Help Wanted’ sign up in the window, after all.

“Really?” she says, hesitantly. “I mean- by all means, I’d love to have you on staff, but… I thought one of Hiro’s friends was telling me that you just got a job at that skate shop?”

Ethel scowls. “Didn’t work out. Times were tough, so they ditched the newbie. I didn’t have a chance.”

That detail strikes her as odd- why would any store be hiring, in the same week they need to cut labor- but she lets it slide. “Well, legally I need to look over this and let you know in a few days, but…” She gives the girl a warm smile. “I don’t mind telling you that the job is yours, if you want it. I already know you’re a hard worker, and passionate, and a good friend-”

Her voice slips, but she keeps up the smile. “And I’m sure you already know, we really, really need more employees.”

“Glad to help.” A bubble of gum swells up, and pops- bright blue, this time. Ethel shakes Cass’s hand, then dips her head forward and flicks her fingers off her right temple- a sort of ‘aye aye, Captain’ type of salute. Or something. Cass honestly doesn’t understand half of what young people are _saying_ these days, let alone their farewell gestures.

Normally, she’d ask Hiro, probably getting them both into a snarky, good-natured argument about ‘millenials’ and all that.

But. Well. Not so much, recently. With how busy he’s been.

Ethel’s made her way towards the other end of the café, vanishing in the scattered tables near the entrance- Cass busies herself with straightening up some of the odds and ends behind the register, keeping one eye on the entryway in case new customers come in. Hopefully, it won’t get too much busier. She’s already practically daydreaming about how much a single extra employee- for that matter, one who’s competent, has held other jobs, and isn’t a rambunctious sixteen-year-old only legally allowed to work a few hours after school- will cut back on how _hectic_ things have been recently.

A stray thought makes her hesitate, as she’s rearranging the napkin holders.

…Tadashi really helped out more than she realized. Never asking about pay- he just considered it helping out family.

She’s left to her thoughts for a while, as a young couple spends five minutes trying to decide which coffee to try, and she takes their order on autopilot; she’s already saying ‘thank you’ and ‘have a nice day’ before she consciously thinks back to what they asked for. The computer says ‘medium dark chocolate mocha’, so she must have punched that in, right?

The money’s already in the register. Cass blinks, and the couple’s walking over to one of the tables by the cream and sugar. Nobody waiting to order, at the front. It’s even somewhat quiet. She’s been distracted before, but this… seems different.

Once again, just her and her thoughts.

Something else to think about. Anything. She shakes her head, and glances toward the stairway leading to the rest of the building- Hiro’s holed up in his room, again, likely studying. She wonders if he’ll come down to see his friends. Probably not.

She’s not sure why she thinks so, but probably not.

The next time she glances up, Gary’s approaching the register. Cass does a quick scan of the dining room- she’ll have to send somebody to bus those tables near the back, but that can wait until Nicki’s finished with the last couple kitchen orders- and mentally runs through a checklist of everything that needs to be done. Andrew is already making the mocha, and the kitchen’s under control, and everyone else has their order already, so… they’re fine, for now.

“Morning,” she says brightly. Of the usual gang, she’s found herself talking to Gary more and more- _Wasabi,_ she has to remind herself. That’s what Hiro calls him, and it’s what Tadashi used to- it’s even how he was introduced to her (by Fred, with a giggling smirk, much to Gary’s chagrin as he tried to keep a dignified look and politely shake her hand even though Fred was already halfway into a story about food stains and a cafeteria lunch that got out of control). And maybe it’s his respectful attitude, or his relative calmness that balances out the others’ loud energy- but whatever it is, he’s the first one of the group to make her consider that, maybe, there are other people who know what this is like. Even if they’re not in the exact same situation.

After all, they cared about him too.

“Hey,” he says. His eyes dart around, like he’s a little nervous, but he coughs like he’s trying to play it off. “Two, uh, cinnamon rolls- and one of the raspberry, cream, like… what do you call it.” He sheepishly points to the display case. “That one.”

“Sure. Two rolls and a ‘that one’,” she laughs. “Coming right up.” She takes them out with the paper sleeves, swapping them for the credit card Gary holds up. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to eat it all at once.”

“Right. Honestly, I don’t even like cinnamon.” He sighs. “Go Go forgot to order when she was over here.”

“So she made you do it?” When the card is approved, she hands it back. “Ooh, you should tell her that’ll hurt her chances of getting hired.”

He grins. “Perfect. I love it.” The pastries are slid in front of him on a tray, but he pauses before picking it up. “I, uh…”

“Yes?” Cass is sure she’s not imagining it- he looks nervous, and unsure, and just _awkward._ It’s a funny look for any college-age adult, let alone one who towers over her by more than a foot.

“It’s just-” Gary’s looking down at his shoes, but he pauses and seems to gather his resolve. “I was talking to Honey, and we…” Finally, he looks up at her and holds eye contact, at least for a moment. “We wondered, um- if it’s not too personal, and- you know, it’s already been a few weeks, like…”

She swears, he’s never going to actually say it, whatever it is. Just before she interrupts to try to lighten the situation, he takes a deep breath. “How’ve you been doing?” he blurts out, probably a little louder than he meant to.

Oh.

…Right.

It sends her for a loop, because- well, that just wasn’t a question she expected to be answering today. Most of the well-wishers and the sympathetic shoulder-pats as customers pass her… they’ve moved on. The trite sayings, and the ‘time heals all wounds’-s, and the ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’-es, and the surprising amount of casseroles that have been brought to her front door… it’s mostly over and done, by now. Not that she misses it, because that was a trial of patience and understanding in itself- everyone seemed to think they were the first to offer her advice and wisdom, never realizing that most days, their cute little musings on grief and moving on were the _last_ thing she wanted to hear-

Still. This is… kind of nice. The people who really, truly knew Tadashi, and cared about him? Them, she’ll listen to.

So she pauses, and honestly takes her time before answering. “Thank you,” she says at last. “I’m… not sure, I suppose.”

He nods, and doesn’t say anything- which, again, is _such_ a relief, because if Gary wanted to use the question as an opportunity to throw his own perfect life advice her way, she’d probably kick him out this instant. “Everyone seems to have their piece to say,” she says ruefully. “And it’s… strange, because you don’t really know- who to listen to. Or, what to expect, or what to… do at all, really.” The sentence doesn’t make perfect sense, and she frowns before continuing. “But most of the time, none of that matters, because- all I know is that-”

There’s a hitch in her throat, and it catches her off-guard. But she’s not going to cry, here, in front of God and the whole restaurant. “I just miss him,” she says quietly, with a half-shrug, as if to say, _That’s all there is to it._

“Yeah,” he says, glancing back down. “…Yeah.”

There’s a gap in the conversation, moderate silence buffered by the quiet hum from the customers on the other side of the room.

“What about Hiro?”

He sounds apologetic, like he’s still not sure if it’s alright to ask. Cass opens her mouth to say something, but stops.

…what about Hiro, indeed?

“He’s… alright,” she says slowly. “I think. I mean, he- of course, he has his… days. But that’s- that’s to be expected, right?” She’s afraid her voice probably cracks upward on the last word, betraying how unsure she is- but Gary only nods again, looking deep in thought himself. “It seems like things are getting better. And I want to say they are, for certain, but…”

Gary has his hands in his pockets, hunched a bit like the words are making him shrink down. “But you never really know?” he says.

Cass nods, and decides not to trust her voice this time. Just… for a second. She’ll be fine.

“Right.” With another sigh, quieter this time, Gary looks up again. “We were- uh, we were thinking it over, and… I wondered, if- if maybe-”

There’s something else, clearly, something specific- but he shakes his head, suddenly, and straightens. “Never mind,” he mumbles. It’s so unlike him- normally articulate, and direct, and seeming at ease in any conversation. Now, though, he looks like he’s having an unending debate in his own mind.

Frowning, Cass tilts her head. “Are you sure?” she asks. “You can say it, if-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He blinks a few times. “It’s nothing. Anyway, uh-” It’s sudden, with a change in tone that suggests he’s done talking about… whatever _that_ was. “It’s cool that you’re willing to give her a chance. Money’s tight for everyone, so…” He shrugs again. “I’m glad.”

She has to process for a second before she realizes he’s talking about Ethel. “Oh! With the application. Absolutely. I think she’ll be great.” Cass pauses, and winces over a particularly frustrating memory. “Besides, I… know what it’s like to get fired right away, for something that’s not even your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s-”

Gary stops, then gives her a suspicious eyes-narrowed look, quickly glancing back over the café. Then back to her. “Not her fault?”

“Sounded like the shop was having money problems, so they axed the newest hire.” She frowns. “Is… she… that’s what happened, right?”

He blinks, then heaves a sigh. “I’ll be right back.”

Before Cass can say anything, he’s stomping through the maze of tables and booths- she sees him talking to Ethel briefly, but her attention is distracted by a couple of regulars heading out the front door. Mrs. Mitsuha gives a cheery wave while her nephew adds, “Thanks again!” Cass waves in return with a smile, momentarily losing track of what she was focused on before-

-and suddenly both Gary and Ethel are in front of the register, still arguing. “You’re _kidding_ me, right?” Gary says to her, with an incredulous high pitch in his voice. “Go, you can’t just-”

“Later, Miss H, thanks for the food,” Ethel says quickly, but Gary cuts her off- he’s blocking the door like a bouncer at a club, or something. Cass can’t decide whether to laugh or be really, really confused.

She settles on the second. “I’m… sorry?”

“Well?” Gary’s just staring Ethel down, now, not blinking.

Ethel blows another bubble. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says in a monotone.

“It’s really, _really_ not good to lie to your boss, you know,” he says. His arms are folded, with a stern reproach in his voice that almost reminds her of Tadashi. “You could make the argument for ‘illegal’, too.”

“Um-”

“I didn’t lie,” Ethel says, with only the slightest hint of worry in her normally-impassive expression. “I just didn’t go into every detail. You want me to explain what I had for breakfast that morning, too? Or traffic on the way in?”

“ _Some_ details,” Gary says with a frown, “are more important than _others_.” He gives her a meaningful… look, of some kind? Like he wants to say more, but he also wants her to say something. Cass doesn’t know. This is confusing. Also, she’s beginning to worry that perhaps she was a bit too quick with the whole ‘the job is yours’ promise.

“Would either one of you _please_ explain what’s going on?”

“I didn’t lie,” Ethel insists again. “The skate shop had some issues going on, and they got rid of the newest hire.”

“Issues?” Gary repeats, dumbfounded. “Go, are you seriously going to make me tattle on you? Like we’re in fourth grade or something?”

Cass sighs. This situation is getting ridiculous. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She reaches behind her- picking the résumé back up from the counter- and grabs Ethel’s arm before walking briskly towards the nearest table. She pulls out a chair, and steps to the other side and sits down before Ethel has the chance to give her a bemused, wide-eyed glance. “Welcome to your official job interview at the Lucky Cat Café.”

“I thought you said I already-”

“ _Miss Ethel Tomago_ ,” she says with a tone that’s been perfected, over years of dealing with Hiro’s shenanigans. Ethel sits down, eventually. “Would you _kindly_ describe the details of your most recent termination of employment?”

The girl blinks at her, more lost and surprised than Cass has ever seen her before- and yeah, she may have gone a _little_ overboard with this, but she’s stressed. Give her a break. “Uh- the, um, official policy of the- I didn’t fully understand when I started working. And. That's. Yeah.”

Cass is about to interrupt her stammering, but Gary suddenly cuts in. “So this guy’s trying to shoplift some headphones, right, and then-”

“I’m SORRY, sir,” she says- a bit too officious, and a bit too loud, _wow_ , she’s getting a bit carried away, but honestly, seeing these college kids so off-kilter is kind of fun- and glares at him. “You’ll have to wait in the lobby until the interview has finished. Please and thank you.”

Gary blinks with his mouth open, then glances at the open café lobby around him, but Ethel finally gets her voice back. “Basically, this punk was trying to rob the store. My manager stopped him, so he panicked and started swinging. I, um, I stepped in after the first punch.”

She’s talking _awfully_ quickly, and that ‘um’ is about as inconspicuous as the way Hiro always taps his fingers in a pattern when he’s lying. Cass starts, “So you-”

‘ _Stepped in,_ sure,” Gary mutters at the same time.

“And there’s this bullsh- uh, this _dumb_ policy rule that employees aren’t supposed to do that,” Ethel says in a rush. “So, yeah. That’s that. Obviously won’t happen again.”

“ _Seriously,_ Go Go, you’re-”

“Gary! Please!” Cass doesn’t even look at him. It’s very possible that the few people eating at the other tables are staring at them, but she doesn’t care at this point. “Ethel. Explain. _If you would.”_

“Fine,” she says quickly, like she means to say it all at once. But the hesitation comes back. Cass folds her arms, and waits. “I… may have grabbed both his arms, so he couldn’t keep trying to hit anyone,” she mumbles. Slowly. Eventually.

Cass raises an eyebrow, and says nothing.

Ethel stares back, but only for a few seconds before she caves. “…And picked him up. And flipped him over the counter by the register.”

Well then. Cass doesn’t show any surprise, even though _Good God,_ she’s considering hiring some kind of adrenaline-junkie… _superhero,_ or something. Or a lawsuit waiting to happen. Or both. “Anything else?”

“That’s all I did! Then security showed up.” Once again, she tries to maintain eye contact, even though she’s clearly holding something else back. Gary gives a not-subtle nudge to the back of her chair, and fuming, she finally looks down again. “ _And maybe I fractured his wrist,”_ she spits out quickly.

Aaaaand the pieces suddenly fit together. Cass scowls. “…You said the shop was having financial troubles, so they cut the newest hire.”

Every other time she’s ever encountered this girl, Ethel hasn’t shown any fear in the slightest- but Cass swears she’s actually shrinking in her seat right now. “I think I said ‘hard times’.”

“Right. The ‘hard times’, in this case, being you.”

That determined glare is back, but Ethel doesn’t say anything else.

It occurs to Cass that having this conversation in full view of the café’s patrons _may_ not have been the best idea- even if she still wanted to hire Ethel, everyone just heard her admit to what happened at her last job. Against her better judgment, she risks a glance around- of the several people looking their direction, all of them turn away as if they hadn’t been caught eavesdropping, with a few embarrassed red faces and muttered apologies here and there.

“Good for her!”

Erm. All except one.

Mrs. Matsuda raises a cup of tea, a beaming smile on her kindly face as she nods towards Ethel. “If you don’t mind me saying, Cassie, that sounds like the sort of no-nonsense attitude we could use a bit more of in this city! And, young miss, I don’t mean to intrude- but could I perhaps buy you a pastry? Do you have a favorite? I'm partial to the scones, myself.”

It’s tough to guess who’s more surprised: Cass herself, or- when she turns back- Gary and Ethel, who have vaguely identical expressions of bewildered confusion.

…This has been another strange day.

Cass kills a few seconds by looking back down at the résumé, but she’s not really reading it at all; she’s turning over a couple of thoughts in her mind, before she puts them to words. “I think,” she says carefully, waiting until Ethel is focused on her again, “that I’m going to let you know my decision in a few days.”

“…Oh!” She blinks, and her mouth twitches like she can’t decide what expression to show. “Uh. Right. Then- I- thank you.” She reaches out her hand, then seems to change her mind and stand up first- so it awkwardly looks like she pulls away from Cass’s handshake in return. “Sorry,” she mumbles when they finally shake hands. “I meant to- yeah- the, um, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiles, partly out of politeness and partly because Gary Whitaker has a _priceless_ look on his face, like a computer frozen on a loading screen. “Thanks for coming in.”

“Yeah.” Ethel almost blows a bubble with the gum again, but stops at the last minute and coughs instead. “And. Er. I’m honestly sorry that I didn’t tell you the whole truth. That was- that was wrong, and there’s really no excuse for it. And- yeah.” She trails off, looking more uncomfortable by the second.

…See, if only conversations with Hiro could go this smoothly.

“Apology accepted,” she says with another smile. Gary looks at least somewhat satisfied, now, like his responsibility-monitoring duties have been fulfilled; she’s suspecting more and more that he must be the parent-friend of the group. “Feel free to take Mrs. Matsuda up on that offer, and…” The official job-interview act is getting tiring, so she lets her cheery expression fall and heaves out a breath. “Look, you’re lucky we need help. And that Tadashi spoke so well of his friends, and their character.”

Ethel still looks somewhat dazed. “…Lucky. Right.”

“Lucky _Cat,”_ somebody calls over from the back of the restaurant. “ _Eyyyyyy.”_

_“Fred, I swear-”_ Ethel hisses, but stops herself and turns back to Cass. “Right. I understand.”

O-kay, apparently Fred’s here too. She didn’t see him right away, but now that she looks, his beanie is unmistakable- a yellow and orange one, today, sticking out over the other customers thanks to his tall frame. He’s grinning smugly at Ethel’s barely-controlled fuming, and… it seems he was watching this whole awkward exchange. Cass briefly marvels at how quickly she’s been drawn into this strange and dysfunctional web of college student… drama? Is that the right word for this?

“So, Go Go, if somebody tries to sneak an extra donut,” Fred says cheerfully, “do you think that’s a full bodyslam situation? Or more of an uppercut-roundhouse-combo type of thing?”

Or maybe just a lot of mocking and jokes. Apparently, she’s a part of this, now- and it’s not even through Hiro, this time. She straightens a few chairs on that side of the restaurant, mostly so she can keep listening in.

“You can’t really talk, Freddie,” the girl next to him says casually. She’s typing away on a laptop, and her blonde hair- not tied up this time, but Cass is pretty sure it usually is- keeps her face from view, for now. “Last summer, you were convinced she was a professional baseball cheerleader.”

“Hey, that’s totally a reasonable job! That could be a thing!”

“It _isn’t_ , though,” Gary says, and pretty soon the four of them are all huddled around their table again, arguing and laughing like they didn’t just witness the strangest interview Cass has ever been a part of. Some of the goofy, laidback joy is a bit contagious, and Cass finds herself smiling even as she heads back to the counter.

For a moment.

She realizes two things, as customers come and go, money changes hands, and the café bustles in a lazy way, as it always does in off-hours. One, that she doesn’t see _Hiro_ looking that happy, too often. And when he is, it’s nearly always when he’s with them.

Two, she- she hasn’t _herself_ been a part of a group like that in such a long t-

…

She pushes the thought away. This is no time to feel sorry for herself, or unreasonably lonely. She’s not _alone,_ after all, because she has… well, besides Hiro, she has quite a few customers who’ve come to know her pretty well, and…

She gives change. She recommends a few iced coffees. She picks up after a few tables, asks Nicki to take care of the others, and says a couple of warm farewells.

…There’s extended family, of course, but they’re… a few states away, and she hasn’t really kept in touch, since Lee and Kayla-

Eventually, Tadashi’s friends head out. They’re still laughing. Still talking. There are only a few people left, and the café is awfully quiet.

She hasn’t thought about it in a while.

Lonely. Alone.

Exhausted.

Her hands aren’t shaking, but it feels like they are- like the faint buzz of numb feeling when a limb falls asleep. She blinks, and looks down, and sees that her hands are clenched into tight fists, her knuckles white.

…

Soon, the café’s getting busy again. Dinner rush isn’t far off.

She loosens her hands, ignoring the marks from her fingernails biting into her palms, and gets to work.

...

...

...

...

**Next Chapter: INTERLUDE 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My current plan is to update Monday nights, but often late enough that it's technically Tuesday morning (going by American time zones). Obviously that didn't happen this week, but I think I'll be able to stick to it. 
> 
> I'm giving a heads-up whenever the next chapter will be an interlude, because I don't want to cause any disappointment; say, if somebody is excited that the story has updated, but then finds out it's just a not-plot-important side thing that I wrote for fun. In fact, it's not even a little bit serious. I think at the moment, I have 3 interludes planned, but there could be more. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading.


	6. Interlude, 1

This may be a horrible mistake.

Hiro narrows his eyes, staring down at the unassuming screen of his phone. He must have turned notifications off, at some point- maybe to keep his phone silent in class?- and then forgotten to switch them back on, because just as Fred mentioned, there it is. Seems like it’s been going strong for a while.

He leans back, sighing, and lets the rolling chair bend slightly as he glances up to the ceiling of the garage. He came out here to get some more work done, he tells himself halfheartedly. This is no time for messing around.

Besides, he isn’t prepared. He doesn’t think he ever _could_ be. In all likelihood, this is a monumentally ill-advised decision.

But… against himself, he is kind of curious. And so, with great hesitation, he clicks the notification he’s been ignoring until now.

He steels himself.

And begins typing.

**[]**

**“Super Secret Magical Power of Friendship Squad, Hell Yeah™”**

**[]**

**Hiro_Hamada has joined the chat!**

**[]**

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** what

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** um

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** what is this exactly

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** THE GRAETETS DAMN CHATROOM IN SF BOYO

**Whassup_Bae** **:** It’s not a chatroom, really. It’s just us messaging each other with dumb nicknames.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** ...I mean.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** You know. More so than usual.

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** ‘dumb nicknames’ is like 90% of our friendship tbh

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Yeah, I noticed the redundancy as soon as I typed it.

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** …okay, I’m just gonna say it

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** I’m not sure who you are

**Hiro_Hamada** **:** Wasabi? I think?

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Me? Yes.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred, I TOLD you these names were too confusing.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** AAAAH I JUST REALIZED, HIRO DOESN’T HAVE ONE YET

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** THIS MUST BE RECTIFIED IMMEDIATELY

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has changed Hiro_Hamada’s name to ‘Zero_to_Hiro’**

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** is this a game

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** am I losing

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** I feel like I’m losing

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** fred I just saw you misspell the word ‘greatest’ how on earth did you type ‘rectified immediately’ in like half a second with no mistakes

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Oh, man, speaking of which.

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat ‘The Graetets’**

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Perfection.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** exCUSE YOU

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat ‘The Graetets™’**

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** oh no how could you I was gonna sell knockoff tshirts

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** just imagine

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** people looking at you and immediately thinking

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** that guy must truly be the graetets

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** lol

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** but now that its trademarked, I mean, what are we even doing here

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** that’s it, we’re done

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** game over man

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** peace out

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers has left the chat!**

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** wait, we can leave

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** thats a great idea

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** NO

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** YOU CANOT

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Run, Hiro.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE SIR

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Save yourself.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** nooooooooooo guys

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** go go is the only one who can leave!!!

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** because we don’t need that negativity in our super secret friendship squad anyway

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** wait

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I mean our magical secret power of

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** shit

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I can’t remember what the name was before this

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Truly, it has been lost to history.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** just like Go Go

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** toO SOON

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** lol

**Whassup_Bae** **:** That reminds me. Wouldn’t Honey usually have responded by now?

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I dunno

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** maybe she’s busy?

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** shes probably the only one of us smart enough to stay away from this

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** this

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** whatever this is

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred called it ‘memes and madness’ at one point. I thought that was fitting.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** yeah that scans

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** but like not in a good way

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** seriously fred Im 14 but even I know this is pretty embarrassing

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** memes and MAGIC you mean!!!

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** its probably better if she doesn’t join

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** as soon as she sees how stupid we all are shes gonna ditch this chat in a heartbeat

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat ‘MEMES AND MAGIC™’**

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** are you fricking serious fred

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** ring ring, hey Cass, Hiro said a naughty word

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** what’s that? He’s grounded? And ten year olds shouldn’t use the internet anyway? Okay, I’ll tell him

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** I said ‘fricking’ you dork

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** and iM 14 I JUST SAID THAT

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** now he’s calling me names

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** this is cyberbullying

**[]**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has joined the chat!**

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** oh my god it worked

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** summoned by the power of memes and magic

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **: *™**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Hey guys!!! Sorry, I didn’t see my phone was going off

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Lemme just read through the log for a sec, to see what I missed!

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** you may not want to do that, actually

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** uh oh

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** um

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** so, this is

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** hoo boy

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** HL, I know todays conversation has been especially dumb

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** but please

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I need you to stay

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** everyone else has turned on me

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** the poor and humble Freddie who just wanted to set up a cool chatroom

**[]**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has left the chat!**

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** lol

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** DAMMIT

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** EVERYBODY BETRAYED ME

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I’M FED UP WITH THIS WORLD

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** wait is it just us now

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** whered wasabi go

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Still here, actually. I just didn’t say anything.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** so you saw the whole saga

**Whassup_Bae** **:** The grand history.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** the epic tragedy

**Whassup_Bae** **:** The complete masterworks.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** the harrowing tale

**Whassup_Bae** **:** The cautionary parable of an individual’s rise to power, and the corruption of madness as he clings to control and desperately claws his way to glory, blind to the suffering and anger of those he once called ‘friends’.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** lol fred that’s you

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat ‘You’re All Dead to Me’**

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** harsh

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** but not unexpected

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** does it usually go like this in here?

**Whassup_Bae** **:** You have no idea.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Sometimes it’s just us changing the group name back and forth. And our own names. And, sometimes, each other’s. Literally nothing of importance is ever said, or achieved.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** um rude

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** wait wasabi were you just reading along this whole time

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Well, since you asked-

**Whassup_Bae** **:** I’ve been doing some quick research.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** If anyone was wondering, ‘canot’ is commonly understood to be, simply, an old French term for ‘canoe’.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** So.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** More specifically, it’s defined thusly: a boat, usually made from a carved-out tree trunk.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Point being, Fred- very vehemently- called Hiro a small tree-boat.

**Zero_to_Hiro** **:** oh my god

**[]**

**Zero_to_Hiro has changed Zero_to_Hiro’s name to ‘Small_Tree-Boat’**

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** at last

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** my lifelong aspiration

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** dammit Hiro

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you change your name back this instant young man

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I WILL NOT LOSE CONTROL OF THIS CHATROOM

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat ‘Fred loses control of the chatroom’**

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** how

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** daRE

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** YOU

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers has joined the chat!**

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** oh good you’re back

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** sup nerds

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** whatd I miss

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** man I dont even know where to begin

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** so basically Fred had a pretend conversation with himself, and whined a lot, and HL showed up and then immediately did the smart thing and left

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** there was some french in there at some point

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** im pretty sure we wrote a screenplay or something based on the great tragedy of fred it was great

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** so yeah that about sums it up any questions

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** yes

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** who the hell are you

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** HAH

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** my OG screen names don’t look so dumb now, do they???

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** go go im kind of insulted

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I mean obviously

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I am

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** a small tree

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** that is also a boat

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I dont understand whats unclear about this

**Go_Go** **_** **Power_Rangers** **:** okay, you’re definitely Hiro

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:**???

**Go_Go** **_** **Power_Rangers** **:** easy

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** the sass, and also

**Go_Go** **_** **Power_Rangers** **:** you made yourself into a meme 10x faster than fred ever could

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Oh my God, she’s right.

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I dont know if I should be insulted or proud

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I’m definitely both

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** insulted by you

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** and proud of myself

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** for having the strength and patience not to kick you out of this chat you insolent whippersnapper

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** insolent Whippersnapper is my favorite indie band

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** insolent whippersnapper is my favorite weakass comeback

**Whassup_Bae** **:** …Well, then.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** GASP

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** lol

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** ima wash your mouth out with soap

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** and GO GO I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON MY SIDE

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** well I was annoyed with Hiro

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** but then he started making fun of you, so y know

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** only human, and all that

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** uuuugh what did I do to deserve this

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Well, you did start this whole operation.

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** and you filled p much all of our conversations with memes, so

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** and you specifically invited us

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I don’t know what you

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** actually wait just a sec

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Hiro? Everything okay?

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** …

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** whatdididotodeservethis.jpg

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** BETRAYAL OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** its not loading on my phone, what is it

**Whassup_Bae** **:** In what I can only assume is a response to Fred’s question, Hiro apparently set down his phone, grabbed some paper, wrote “I don’t know what you expected” in sharpie, took a picture of himself holding it, and then sent that.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Instead of simply typing the phrase.

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** savage

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** YOU WERE MY BROTHER ANAKIN

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Seriously, that seems like a lot of extra work.

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** ‘extra’ being the key word

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** worth it

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** if theres one thing I learned from fred, its that you can never go too far for memes

**Go_Go** **_** **Power_Rangers** **:** see Hamada gets it

**Whassup_Bae** **:** You picked up on this awfully quickly. I’m impressed.

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I mean this whole chat is basically just roasting fred, right

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** right

**Whassup_Bae** **:** That’s probably the best description any of us have ever come up with.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Oh, wait.

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat ‘Basically just roasting Fred’**

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** Yall scuk

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat has renamed the chat ‘Yall scuk’**

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** I changed my mind, this is fun

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** UNGRATEFUL CHILD

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS CHAT, AND I CAN TAKE YOU OUT

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** wait actually

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** wasabi can he kick me out

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** does he have that kind of power

**Whassup_Bae** **:** With this app specifically… maybe?

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** haha you fools

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you know not my true strength

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you shall wait in prolonged anguish, always afraid of an avenging strike that may never come

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** my patience is my revenge

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** yeah nvm he can’t do it

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I WASN’T FINISHED

**Whassup_Bae** **:** I agree. That was definitely a bluff.

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** ill admit though, pretty sick monologue

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** maybe we ARE writing a screenplay about fred taking over the world

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you are all

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** collectively

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** The Worst **™**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** why always the trademark thing

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** fred I swear Ill find a way to put a virus on your phone that disables whatever keyboard shortcut you’re using

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** and nothing else

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** thats a specific goddam virus

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Efficiency is the name of the game, I guess.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** shortcut? you mean going to the symbol thing

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** what

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** the browser

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you know??? the thing

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** symbols! where you have all the little choices

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** no frickin way

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred, are you saying that you stop typing, leave the chat, open up a separate program on your phone, choose the trademark symbol, then copy that into what you’re going to say? Every time?

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I mean is there a better way???

**Small_Tree-Boat** **: …**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** …

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** …

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** guuuuys

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** nobody tell him

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** GUUUUYS

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** anyway that’s my cue, I’m out

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** it’s late

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** this nonsense has gone on long enough

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Oh, I hadn’t even noticed the time.

**Whassup_Bae** **:** I’m kind of ashamed of all of us.

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** as yOU SHOULD BE

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** FOR VARIOUS REASONS

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** yeah totally feeling the shame rn

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** anyway fred, one last thing

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** WHAT

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I mean

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** whaaaaaaaaat

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** genuinely, for real, thank you for humoring us

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** you have a knack for setting up funny conversations

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:**???

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** uh thank you??

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** might even say

**Small_Tree-Boat** **:** it’s your trademark lol

**Whassup_Bae** **:** There it is.

**Fred_Dead_Fredemption** **:** excUSE ME

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat has left the chat!**

**[]**


	7. October, 6

Hiro closes the program and sets down his phone, his smile fading slightly. It… _is_ getting awfully late.

…It was fun, though.

He scoots the chair closer to the desk, so he’s looking right at his reflection in the computer screen just a few feet away. Okay. For real, this time. Gonna get some actual work done. Here we go.

…

For some reason, it’s tough to focus.

A few times in high school, a certain project or research assignment _should_ have been a breeze- but for whatever reason, his work stalled until he felt like he was going to lose his mind if he had to look up another stupid article. This feels an awful lot like that. Except this time, he actually _cares_ , so it’s even more frustrating. More than a couple journals result in dead ends, full of information that has nothing to do with what he’s looking for. He stumbles on a promising database, early on, with varied contributions from professors and scientists at some of the biggest universities in the whole state- but sifting through all the irrelevant writing to find anything on AI restoration, or fixing damaged code, or bringing programs back online when they’ve been dormant for this long… is more challenging than he expected.

And on top of that, something about that stupid group chat is really, really bugging him.

So the garage is quiet, again, with the steady and faint hum of the monitor only accompanied by the _click_ of the mouse and, once in a while, the scattered tapping of keys as Hiro jots down notes from an article or a study he’s found.

…

Anyone watching would see hardly any movement, at all. He blinks. Leans closer to read. Pushes the chair back, twice, both times reaching up to rub at his eyes.

…

There’s a discrepancy. With the unimportant, goofy texts from earlier. Something that shouldn’t bother him, but it _is_ bothering him- something wrong, something false, something prodding at him and brewing a deep, uneasy sense of guilt in his chest.

They were just stupid jokes. Why on earth should he feel _guilty_ about that?

…

At first, he makes an effort to keep track of what time it is. Sort of.

…

He doesn’t realize he’s started mumbling until he’s halfway through a dissertation by an AI expert from Japan. The translation is more than a little bit clunky, and Hiro finds himself tripped up by the awkward wording more than once; eventually, he pulls open the original article and tries to translate the particular phrases himself.

…

It would probably seem silly, but the quiet musing as he reads it over _kind of_ seems to help, so whatever. The conclusion the author comes to by the end of page three seems… promising. Maybe. Hiro copies the four-point hypothesis, and inserts the paragraph into his own notes.

…

He’ll be able to apply some of it tomorrow, if he has a chance to use the lab.

…

It might work.

…

He keeps looking, because he’s only scratched the surface of _one_ of the major problems he’ll have to confront with the chip. His eyelids are heavy, and there’s a sluggish sense in his thoughts and the way he moves his hands over the keys, but- but he doesn’t doze off.

…

…

…

Time passes.

…

…

…

He gets up twice; once for the bathroom, and again to grab an energy drink from the cupboard in the kitchen.

He bought them a week ago. Orange, he’s pretty sure- or maybe berry-flavored? He can hardly tell from the taste. They’re hidden behind the two-thirds of a hand-me-down china set that they’ve never used. Aunt Cass hasn’t noticed yet.

…

…

…

It’s late. Paradoxically, it could just as easily be called ‘early’. The sun isn’t up yet, but he’s dimly aware of a couple of headlights passing by the garage window once in a while. At first he dismisses it as late-night traffic, but… he forces himself to look at the timestamp on his monitor.

Crap. He hasn’t made nearly as much progress as he’d hoped.

It’s fine, he tells himself, taking another moment to lean back and rest his eyes from the screen. He’ll finish up his analysis of this article- which, if he’s on the right track, will provide some insight on the difference between restoring an existing AI code, and creating one from scratch- and then he’ll call it a night. Morning. Whatever.

...He has class tomorrow.

_Today._ Hell.

He cracks his knuckles, and leans in closer, and reads the first few lines out loud- once to get the gist, again to retrace a concept he didn’t get the first time, a third time to try to memorize it. And stave off the feeling of exhaustion that is, increasingly, his constant companion.

He keeps reading, and speaking, and his voice sounds strangely loud in the quiet room, and…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Cass hears something.

Probably just Mochi, her first thoughts say. Then she listens more closely. It’s quiet, but persistent- a low muttering, like the background noise of a TV that’s been left on. She wonders if that’s exactly what happened; but no, she’s pretty sure she didn’t even _watch_ any shows yesterday. Sure enough, when she steps into the living room, she’s greeted by… absolutely nothing, except the lingering sense that she’s sabotaging her own sleep schedule. And Mochi, curled up silently on the couch. Irritably, she sighs. She was already awake, tossing and turning after a fiftful night of semi-rest, and only got up with the intention of grabbing some water, and maybe reading a bit on the sofa to lull her back to sleep.

Though, now that she’s here, she has a better sense of where the mysterious sound is coming from.

Getting to the garage requires moving through the dining area- after quietly drifting down the stairs, she makes her way past the tables and chairs. Part of the lobby is still arranged in an awkward cluster, from where the book club was determined to jam two tables together- Andrew was supposed to take care of it, but it seems he forgot- and closer to the register, the spot that took _ages_ to clean, where Mr. Uzaki insisted on sitting with his feet on the bench, and ended up spilling his tea all over the booth.

And the corner where the old-fashioned jukebox used to be, before it broke down. She’s considered replacing it.

…The boys used to argue over what to play. Hiro always went for top-40 pop songs, or anything goofy and inappropriate for a family restaurant. And Tadashi was more likely to choose… classic rock, or sometimes…

Cass realizes she’s stopped, in the middle of the floor.

…sometimes he’d just let Hiro pick.

She takes a deep breath, focusing on the bizarre muttering sound again, and approaches the entry to the garage- and it’s _definitely_ coming from there. The handle is in her grasp, but she hesitates before opening the door. For all she knows, it could be some animal, scurrying around the walls, or a robber looting through the assortment of objects that she hasn’t cleaned out in years _,_ or even someone trying to break into the rest of the building. For some reason, the worry and fear of a home invasion only hits her now _\- s_ he lets go, and for a brief, terrified second, considers heading back to the bedroom, and ignoring it.

Or heading back to the kitchen, and getting a knife.

But the first thought is silly, and the second a little extreme; so Cass steels herself, and tries to calm the thumping heartbeat that feels like it’s going to break out of her ribs, and opens the door-

Oh. Hiro’s at the computer, talking to himself.

Huh.

“Cass!” he yelps, apparently so startled that the ‘aunt’ part of addressing her is out the window, and half-jumps backwards, so the computer chair starts skidding across the floor. When he finally keeps himself from toppling over, he straightens and looks at her with a completely blank face- like he has no idea what to say. He looks back to the computer, where- okay, in all honesty, given his over-the-top reaction, Cass was kind of expecting, um, something _else_ to be on that screen.

…What. She’s raised two teenagers. She’s not an idiot.

But no; the computer screen that Hiro frantically wheels back over to is… honestly, that really does look like homework. She can’t see it that well from here, but there are walls of text, an open document full of notes, and an incredibly boring series of diagrams in the corner.

…Hiro was, apparently, doing homework. At five o’clock in the morning.

She realizes that she still hasn’t said anything, and Hiro’s probably feeling just as confused as she is by now- so she stifles a yawn, feeling the worry from a moment ago already fading. “Hiro,” she says as sternly as she can while also starting another yawn. “…What are you doing?”

And she swears, he could _not_ look more guilty. There’s another worried glance to the screen, which doesn’t make any sense, because he’s acting like there’s something she’s _not supposed to see_ , when this seems exactly the same as any of the other projects he’s been working on since he started classes. Or, at least, they’re as unintelligible to her.

He’s probably just embarrassed at being caught, working in the wee hours of the morn-

Wait a minute.

“Hiro,” she repeats, feeling very much like she’s _about_ to have a headache shortly.

“Just- working on homework, and stuff,” he says rapidly. He taps a few keys, possibly saving his work, then turns back to her and blinks a few times. “I, uh- I have a lot of catching up to do, so…”

When his words trail off into mumbles, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Hiro Hamada,” she says. “Please tell me you happened to wake up incredibly early.”

“W-wha-” For a minute, he stutters like music that’s skipping in the same spot over and over. And she cringes, because he looks _so_ tired. “I mean, I’m-”

“ _Hiro.”_

“I- I was-”

“Hiro, please. Please. Do _not_ tell me you’ve been up all night.”

Cass isn’t sure of it until she sees him glance off to the side, like he’s already been caught. And then his left hand is tapping out a rhythm on his knee.

He even audibly gulps.

…Dear God.

“Oh, _no,”_ she groans, and leans back slightly against the doorframe. Has he… been doing this often? She doesn’t check the garage too much; if she’s being honest, the room is simply too much of a ‘Tadashi’ place to be. And she certainly hasn’t explored it at night. So… for all she knows, he could be getting this small, painful, incredibly unhealthy amount of sleep _every_ night. “Hiro, you can’t… you _can’t.”_ Great. Now, she’s the one with the sleep-deprived drop in vocabulary.

“It’s not a big deal,” he insists, and reaches up to rub at his eyes- and Cass is pretty sure he’s hiding a yawn, too, like he knows how much it would undercut his statement. “I just had to take care of this, and- and I’ll be fine. I’ll be ahead, now, so…” He’s floundering, at this point.

So she cuts him off. “You’re smarter than this, Hiro!” He flinches back, and she lowers her voice slightly. “You know how much anyone needs sleep- let alone a growing boy who’s in his first semester of college! It’s not like-”

“That’s exactly it, though,” he says in a rush that sounds like he’s tripping over his own words. “I mean, now that classes have really started getting busy, I need to make sure I’m not slacking or anything, because if- if I don’t put in the work, then I’m gonna fall behind, and I know that’s not what I want, and that’s not what you want, either, so I have to just keep up. That’s all. It’s, you know, it’s fine.”

She really wishes he’d stop saying things are ‘fine’. “I understand that, but-”

“Isn’t that what you were telling me?” he asks quickly, and doesn’t give her a second to answer. “Like, back before I applied, with the showcase and everything-”

“Hiro-”

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, right,” he says, and his voice is higher, more energized, kind of joking, kind of scared-looking, kind of- angry? “I mean, you’re not really gonna tell me to do less work for school, right?”

“I’m not trying to-”

“Because first it was all ‘Oh, you’re not doing enough with your potential’, and ‘you should be trying to find a good college’, and now it’s like- like- like we’re saying the opposite, and-” He looks so _jittery_ , like the bags under his eyes and the tired look on his face are the only things keeping him from jumping off the walls. “What do you want me to _do,_ you know? I mean- I- what do you want me to do?”

It’s so bizarre, because he’s saying it lightly, as if he’s trying to keep the words funny and jovial- or like he’s panicking. She frowns, and folds her arms in front of her. “I want you to be getting enough sleep, first of all,” she says, keeping her tone steady in contrast. “And if that means cutting back on homework, then so be it-”

“It’s not just _homework_ ,” he blurts out. It almost echoes in the garage- Cass sees him blink and open his mouth again, like he’s surprised by what he just said.

Okay. That worry is starting to come back again.

“I mean, it’s- it’s not, like, just some everyday assignment, where, oh, yeah, sure, I can just work on it and it’s finished and we’re done, hooray,” he says so quickly she can hardly keep up. His hand is tapping out a crazy beat on the counter next to the keyboard. “There’s all this- this research, and all this other stuff, and I’m trying to finish it as quick as I can-”

“Sure.” She holds her hands out, like she’s trying to calm down Mochi or something- it feels incredibly strange as soon as she does it, and she winces. “Alright. That’s important, and… you’re right, because college is- I’m sure it’s a new level, and I’m sure there’s a lot of work, but… Hiro, you _need_ to take care of yourself! If you don’t get enough sleep, then you’re not going to be able to do _anything_ well, let alone focus on your work. You understand that, right?”

This is really not the conversation she expected to be having with Hiro. Tadashi, maybe. Hiro? Not so much.

“No, right, of course!” He’s still speaking so quickly she can hardly understand, like he has a time limit on his sentences. “Yeah, I know that, but I know- I know how much sleep I need, and I know when I’m fine, because it’s _me,_ you know, and I- sometimes you just have to put in extra time, right, because there’s not enough time for everything, but that’s college in a nutshell, right, like cramming for papers and studying and everything, because that’s what- I mean, that’s what Go Go and the others always say, when they’re talking about, like, finals and stuff.” Good Lord, Cass is pretty sure that was all _one_ _breath._ “And I just think that, honestly, this isn’t really that uncommon, because if you think about it I’m kind of a freshman, and I’m trying to get a handle on all this for the first time, and I’m sure it’ll get easier eventually, but for now I just need to knuckle down and do the work, you know?”

The surreal nature of this moment is only getting worse. Cass briefly wonders if she’s dreaming, because she’s _never_ seen Hiro arguing that he should be doing _more_ homework, and definitely never while he seems so exhausted and paradoxically tense at the same time, as if he’s- Good Lord in heaven, is he on drugs?

She shuts down that thought in an instant, because she can only be freaking out about so many things at once, thank you very much. “No. Hiro, listen to me- you’re not sleeping enough. It’s obvious. That’s all there is to say.”

And her heart sinks, because he’s _still_ trying to make his case. “No, seriously, I’m fine! I mean, I’m _gonna_ be fine. I’ll be able to pass my classes, and I’ll catch up, and- and I just have to put in a little more work.”

The early morning is probably getting to both of them, because it takes Cass a moment to realize he isn’t even saying anything new; he’s only repeating a few things he already stated twice. She’s about to fire back- probably, sending the argument into a never-ending tailspin that won’t end with anyone happy- but something about his look makes her pause.

She’s not sure what, exactly- his eyes are as nervous as before, and his fingers are still twitching, and he’s still hunched over like he’s about to pass out here and now. But… Cass has to wonder what’s going on in his head.

“Hiro,” she says, even though he probably hates it when she says his name out loud multiple times in a conversation. “You… you know I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what. Right?”

Absolute silence. She’s pretty sure her nephew is frozen to his seat. For a second, he doesn’t even look away- it’s like whatever he was going to say has been stolen out of his lungs, and he’s left with nothing.

Then he’s back, nodding like nothing happened. “No, yeah, of course!” he says in a rush. “I know that. Yeah. That’s not it. I’m not-”

Hiro snaps his mouth shut in the middle of the sentence, and… yeah, great, just throw Suspicious Thing #62 on the list, because this has been the strangest discussion Cass has ever had with him. “Then what _is_ it?” she presses, suddenly worried that there’s something else going on here.

“Nothing’s ‘it’!” he explodes, loud and shrill. “It’s fine! I’m- I’m fine. Just stop worrying about me, okay? I’m- nothing’s wrong!”

“Please don’t lie to me,” she says, trying to stay calm and nonthreatening. On the inside, though, she’s panicking; what exactly is she supposed to do, if he starts hyperventilating or something? Even after the fire, he’s never seemed this… freaked out.

“I’m not _lying!”_ And strangest of all, he actually tries to grin through all this- like he can suddenly just change his tone, right back to carefree and peaceful. “What- what do you want? What do you want me to do? It’s like, you keep asking me over and over, but I don’t know what you actually want from me-”

“I want you to know you can talk to me!” Cass says. “I just- I want you to be happy, and stay healthy, and I don’t want you to be staying up all night on your computer, and…”

And she realizes something.

“I’m talking to you right now,” Hiro blusters, sarcasm seeping through, still seeming like he’s putting on some kind of act. “We’re talking, right? Look! We’re talking! It’s great! We’re fine!”

…Yes, they’re talking.

They’ve argued like this, sometimes. Or, they’ve talked about everyday things in the café. Or Hiro’s classes. Or things happening around town. Or Mochi. But-

“So,” Hiro says, cutting through the quiet. “I’m- I’m gonna go… shower, and everything.” Abruptly, he gets up from the computer chair- and Cass is pretty sure she doesn’t imagine the bit of dizzy swaying, before he rights himself- and heads for the exit.

But they haven’t sat down and talked about the fire.

…They haven’t talked about him.

“Hiro, wait.”

And… she’s been so wrapped up in worry, and uncertainty, and ‘I don’t know what I’m doing’, that she hasn’t actually… taken the time to _try_ to talk to him.

“What?” he snaps over his shoulder, barely slowing down.

Cass pauses. What’s she doing? She’s just going to- bring it up? Out of nowhere? When they’re both exhausted, and angry, and ready to give up on the day before it’s even started? But she pushes all that away, and tries to keep her voice as clear as she can. “I- I think, we should… talk about what happened.”

Now, he does stop. He’s looking at her, and- she can’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are frozen, like a doll’s. He could be thinking anything in the world.

“You don’t need to-” It’s been building for a while, but when the tears clog her voice and make her hesitate, it’s still an unwelcome surprise. “We can’t just never mention it, like it never- like we’re not-” Cass clears her throat, and tries again. “I want us to be able to _talk_ , and not just the things that are easy to talk about, and- and if we can’t even say his name, then…”

He blinks, once.

“Tadashi.”

The word is flat. And now his hands are jammed in his pockets- he makes for a shadowed, mutinous figure, glaring up at her from the darkened space between the garage lights and the door leading to the rest of the building. “There’s nothing magic about his name,” he mumbles, scowling. “Tadashi. Whatever. We don’t need to…” He shakes his head. “This isn’t even about him.”

“Then what _is_ it about?” she says immediately. “Please, just tell me! Then-”

“It’s not about _anything!_ ” Hiro spreads his hands wide, with an incredulous break in his voice. “There isn’t any ‘it’! There’s no-” He grits his teeth, and both hands clasp against the sides of his head. “Nothing’s wrong, okay?! Except that you _think_ something’s wrong, all the time! Maybe that’s the problem!” He’s talking quickly again, like he can’t control the words flying out. “So let’s talk about that, huh? Why do you always think I’m not okay? Why are you- why isn’t-” He stops, eyes closed, still frowning and breathing hard-

And then he spins to the door and stomps into the house.

...

Cass can’t say anything, for a moment.

…

She considers chasing him down- ‘ _this conversation isn’t over, young man’-_ but she can already hear him clomping up the stairs to the attic, and… suddenly, she can’t bring herself to drag this out anymore.

Eventually, she follows his lead, of stepping through the threshold and back into the main building.

…It’s been a while, since she felt this awful.


	8. October, 7

Hiro’s only ever stayed up all night twice before- once, when he was eleven, for a video-games-and-junk-food binge with Tadashi on a summer weekend (which barely counts, because he could sleep as much as he wanted the next day). For the other, he was thirteen, during a particularly tough stretch of finals in his senior year. Slogging through classes the next morning was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and he swore he’d never do it again.

…

So.

This is fun.

By his count, he’s dozed off five times. Three during lectures: two with an accompanying rebuke from the prof, and one non-reaction from a somewhat apathetic Professor Matsuo, who- Hiro can only assume- saw him sleeping, shrugged, and continued teaching until the bell at the end of the hour startled him awake.

The fourth one was when he fell asleep in the cafeteria. He woke up with his face in a plate of barbecue chicken. He may or may not have a reputation as ‘sleepy chicken kid’ now, and he has a sinking feeling it'll make its way to Fred and get Official Nickname Status eventually.

…No one will ever know about the fifth one. He will never in his _life_ tell anybody that he briefly fell asleep while sitting on the toilet. That one’s going to the grave with him.

The _point_ is, it’s not the greatest day of happy funtime adventures to begin with. He’s more or less given up on being productive or engaging in any of his assignments, so the afternoon boils down to watching the clock, fighting to stay awake, and powering through until he’s done for the day. He can doze for an hour or two after classes, if he really needs to.

When that finally rolls around, he heads to the lab and sequesters himself in a far corner- his usual spot is already taken, by some upperclassman who’s spending more time checking Facebook than actually working on anything. Half-entertaining thoughts of hacking into the guy’s profile remotely, just for the satisfaction of seeing the look on his face, Hiro tries his best to knuckle down and not be distracted.

This plan, he discovers quickly, is not working.

It’s a vicious cycle, of three different mindsets that all keep his head swimming and his thoughts muddled and lost. _None_ of which, by the way, are conducive to research or getting anything done in general. And all of which really, really make him feel like dirt.

One- falling asleep. Trying not to fall asleep. Scolding himself for falling asleep. Slapping at his face, getting a crappy soda from the vending machine in the hall, chugging said soda and feeling kinda sick, still falling asleep a little. Repeat.

Two- work hitting an absolute wall. He’s pretty sure if he was more lucid right now, he’d be in an absolute panic, because _this is impossible._ With the fighting bots, he only had to link up possible actions to inputs from the controller, and with the microbots, he was able to sync them up with specific thoughts. Yeah, it was pretty friggin’ bizarre, but there was a link, at least. With AI, though- he’s going to have to rewrite code that doesn’t _have_ any input commands, because the AI is supposed to also create those inputs and _make its own decisions_ which, honestly, is SO MUCH MORE complicated than Hiro realized it would be. He’s drowning in academic papers and articles on the nitty-gritty details of coding and advanced software development, and he can’t get rid of the stupid, inescapable, childish thought that keeps popping up, before anything else, any time he’s faced with a new problem- _I should ask Tadashi about this._ It just keeps happening.

Three… well, the third one is a different set of thoughts, that are equally difficult to shake once they start bouncing around his skull.

_You’re such a liar._

_There’s so much you still haven’t told Aunt Cass._

_You yelled at her, as if any of this is HER fault._

_You’re making everything so much worse._

He tries to _not_ freak out, and focus on the work in front of him. He’ll apologize, and it’ll be alright. He just needs to act less suspicious, and obviously, he has to make sure he doesn’t pull a stunt like that again. She’s right about the sleep thing, at least. Obviously. But- the problem is, he _can’t_ slow down on the research. Taking time to do anything else feels like a waste, and he’s sick of feeling like he’s not doing his best.

That’s… not exactly the only reason, though. The truth is, he doesn’t want to sleep. At all.

Honey Lemon says something.

It startles him, and he half-jolts out of his thoughts to blink a few times and try to bring himself back to the present. He’s… in the lab, sitting hunched over half a dozen papers splayed out on the surface in front of him, by one of the computers. It’s a- a Friday, he’s pretty sure. Classes got out a while ago, and since then, he’s been… here. How long has it been? What time is it?

Well, Honey’s still here and working on one of her mid-semester write-ups, so it can’t be _that_ late. He leans back in the rolling chair, and it scoots back a few feet while he sighs and rubs at his forehead; honestly, this has been happening more and more lately. Getting so caught up in the task at hand that he can’t immediately remember what else is going on around him. But that’s… probably fine. It just means he’s concentrating and working hard.

He glances behind him, where Honey is sitting on the other side of the lab. There’s an open document on the screen in front of her; but she’s either taking a break or having one of those college moments where the weight of a million projects feels like it’s unbearably heavy, because she has her head flopped down on her arms like she’s determined to take a nap in that very spot.

Hiro hesitates. There’s still a tangle of worried, frantic plans running through his mind, and it might not be such a bad thing to try a new angle. But… something’s keeping him from brightly rolling over and asking right-out. Awkward? Uncertain? There’s a word there, for how strange this feels, but he can’t find it.

The moment passes. Hiro frowns, and shakes his head, and awkwardly coughs. “Um. Hey.”

“Nngf.” From behind a mop of blonde hair, a face eventually turns enough to look at him while also not raising her head off the desk.

“You, uh, you okay?”

“ _Nooooo,_ ” Honey whispers, sounding somehow deflated. “Nothing’s okay. I can’t do any more science. I can’t do more… words. Writing.” She flails one arm toward the screen. “Science-word-writing. No more.”

He grins in spite of himself, because Fred’s flair for the dramatic has clearly rubbed off on the others. “Well, when’s it due? Can’t you get it finished over the weekend?”

“Ha ha. Ha. Oh, Hiro. Sweet, innocent Hiro.” She heaves a grand sigh, but accidentally gets some hair in her mouth, so it stops halfway and becomes a spitting cough. “No. It was technically due this afternoon. Prof said if I can email it before tomorrow, it won’t be a zero.”

He blinks. This is, he’s pretty sure, the first time in her _life_ she’s ever had a late assignment to worry about. “Wow. That… really sucks. I’ll leave you-”

_she has her own life her own problems you’re never thinking of anyone but yourself just like back then and it’s worse now it’s worse you’re making it worse she was fine they all were before you dragged them into all this_

“-to it,” he says, or at least his voice says it and his mouth moves- but his mind is frozen, because what the hell was that? The feeling came over him so quickly he couldn’t even place it- and it’s gone, now, except for a lingering sense of worry and guilt that hurts numbly like a bruise. For a second, he can’t do anything but breathe and grab the desk so he doesn’t fall.

It was… scary. But he’s also really, really angry, because that’s the very last thing he needs right now.

“Eh, it's alright.” Hiro blinks again, and tries to focus again- Honey’s sitting up straight now, with most of the lamenting-student persona gone. “Were you going to ask something?”

“Y-yeah.” He leans forward so his elbows are resting on his knees, and lets his chin fall into his hands. As quick as he can, he tries to reign in everything he was thinking about before. “I just, uh, had a question about-”

His breath catches before he can say the name. “About T-”

_you don’t deserve to ask this_

_you should be begging for forgiveness_

“-about _Baymax,_ ” he finishes, not letting the thoughts distract him any more than they already have. He can worry about that later. Whatever it was.

“Oh!” Her eyes light up, and she leaps out of the chair to cross the rest of the lab- apparently, this trumps regular homework, and Hiro’s hit by that bizarre stab of guilt again when he realizes she’s putting her own work aside to help him. “Of course! What’s up?”

“It’s just…” His fingers are flicking together, moving in random patterns. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. Finally, he grits his teeth and just says it. “Did my brother… tell you guys about the project? While he was making him?”

He makes the mistake of glancing up to see Honey’s reaction. Her entire expression changes; the bright curiosity is gone in an instant, with a somber look making her smile fall away and her shoulders sag. But at the same time, she walks to one of the nearby chairs, and gives him a determined glance like she knows the conversation has just shifted into something more serious. “…Yeah. Yeah, he did.” She pauses for a second, then sits down and leans a bit closer. “Didn’t he ever… tell you?”

Hiro shrugs, finding it suddenly easier to look down at his hands in front of him. “No. I mean, not until that one night,” he mumbles, and he figures by her nod that she knows he’s talking about the visit when they all finally met him. “I, uh, didn’t really care about… the stuff he was doing. Here. Anything for school.”

He doesn’t mean to, but he lets the guilt and regret flood his words until it sounds more like self-pity. He mentally slaps himself, then blurts out, “Besides, I think he wanted to keep Baymax a secret. Um. Until he was finished.”

And he should _not_ have said that, because as soon as the thought sprang up, it made his throat tighten up and his eyes start watering; he’s pretty much about to break down. Honey quietly says, “Oh,” and briefly clasps his hands with one of hers. When he looks up, she doesn’t seem to know exactly what to say, but gives him an encouraging smile anyway.

_don’t deserve-_

“Thanks,” he says, and when she takes her hand away, he reaches up to quickly rub his whole face, not-subtly trying to dry his eyes in the process. “Anyway, the, uh- I was just gonna ask if he said how much time- if you know how long he was working on him. Baymax, I mean.”

He’s trying too hard, and forcing too much fake cheeriness into his voice like he’s discussing something normal and easy to talk about, and Honey has to notice- but thankfully, she just goes with it. “I’m not sure,” she begins, brow furrowed in thought. “But he was talking about the idea as early as… it must have been a year and a half ago. End of his freshman year, I think.”

His mind blanks. “What? That long?”

“But- it’s probably- I mean, the actual work didn’t start until later!” she says quickly, with another bright smile. “And, he was doing it all from scratch, with nothing to follow. And it wasn’t his only priority, since he had classes and everything else too!”

Hiro looks down, briefly. “So do I,” he mumbles. He can see what she’s trying to do; she must have _instantly_ picked up on his worry that he won’t be able to make Baymax anytime soon, and she’s trying to assure him that he doesn’t need to compare himself to his brother. And he _gets_ that, in his head. It’s just the rest of him that doesn’t always cooperate.

Because if Tadashi needed _years,_ then how could he possibly-

“Well, yeah… But it’s a lot different, this time!” Even her voice seems like it’s scientifically designed to sound encouraging. Light, not too loud; as cheerful of words as anyone could say. Hiro has the strange, abstract thought that such a voice is wasted on him. “You already know what you’re doing, and you know the end result. No experimentation needed!”

Huh. Experiments.

_“-and this is the eighty-seventh test of-”_

He blinks some more. “…Right.”

And he doesn’t really know what he was going to say after that. It’s quiet in the lab, and both of their computer screens have gone dark; Honey looks like she’s about to say something else, but she keeps hesitating and looking away.

Heavy. That’s the word he was looking for. The whole place, the whole room- or maybe it’s just him and his thoughts. Like something’s pushing down on him, on his lungs, not enough to hurt but enough that he doesn’t _want_ to talk anymore.

“Hey, Hiro?” When he finally looks back to her, Honey has a determined glint in her eye, like she’s resolved something. “Listen- you don’t need to worry that it’s taking too long.”

Oh. Never mind. _Now_ the weight is hitting his lungs, because it’s out in the open, now, and she’s still looking at him, and all he can think is that _everyone_ loved Baymax so it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can bring him back and it’s not fair that he’s the one who _can’t_ and it’s not fair that they all expect him to find a way- but more than anything else it’s not fair that he can’t ask the one person who would know how to build him again-

He pushes both hands up against his head. “I know,” he says, like focusing on the words will help him push it all away. He tries to believe what Honey just said. “I shouldn’t, I- I know.”

“Are you sure?” She pauses, then straightens a bit, like she’s trying to give him more space. “If you, um- if you felt like that was freaking you out, you… you’d tell us, right?”

What’s she doing? What is she _doing?_ Hiro doesn’t answer, because half of his brain wants to say _of course_ he’s freaking out- it’s not like anything has been normal for the last month- but the other half wants to fall to pieces and tell her that he shouldn’t have promised that he’d be able to do it at all, because now they all believe in him and trust him and they’re waiting for him to- to NOT let everyone down.

It’s a panic, and it feels awful, so he clamps down on both sets of thoughts and shoves them to the side. “Yeah, for sure,” he says, and that’s a _lie_ and he’s used those exact words to lie before, to _Tadashi,_ even- ' _yo_ _u're going botfighting again, aren't you'-_ but he shoves it aside with everything else. “That’s not it. I’m just- I’m worried, because-”

Pause. He can’t lie to her, right? Because she already seems to know exactly what he’s thinking. And- why would he lie, anyway? Convince her he’s fine? Why?

He can ask her for help, or he can- he can spin everything in a different direction, not lies but not the whole truth, so she doesn’t notice.

But why?

“There’s just a lot to do,” he finally says, and glances back to the blank screen. From this angle, he can see the rest of the lab in the black reflection- empty desks, more computers, cubicles and open spaces that’ll play host to a dozen or more students tomorrow, all working on their own projects and homework and theories and experiments. Some of them will fail. Most of them, probably.

Like he’s failing right n-

“There’s kind of, um, more than I expected,” he says again. He leans his elbows on the desk, slightly turned away from her so he doesn’t have to look at her. “And I’m just working on how to- work on it, because- I mean- there are different things, at the same time, and I’m trying to-” The sentence derails, and he sighs and starts over. “I have to figure out the logistics of it, and it could take a while.”

“Okay. Of course.” She nods. “And whenever you need help with anything at all, just- let us know, okay?”

“Yeah.” He tries that smile again, the bright and cheery one like Honey always has- it probably looks like a grimace. He changes the subject as quickly as he can. “I actually had a different question.”

She tilts her head, clearly waiting for him. He nervously clenches his fists again, because this one has been weighing on him for a while, and it’s a specific and dry and semi-awkward part of the whole problem. Yeah, he’s good at math, but… talking about money’s always weird. Particularly his dead brother’s financial situation. It’s weird, and painful, and feels oddly disrespectful, for some reason, but it’s not like he has a choice. It’s all for Baymax, after all.

He grits his teeth. “He got grants from the school, right? For the raw materials?”

His fingers finally loosen so the nails aren’t digging into his palms anymore; he’s looking down at his hands, so he can’t see Honey’s reaction. “Yeah,” she says after a while. “I mean, he- it took a few tries, but eventually they approved it.” There’s another pause, like she’s remembering something. “He had to make a presentation and everything, to convince the professor to even start the grant process at all.”

She’s sounding less sure as she talks, and he can hear the subtext loud and clear: _I wasn’t thinking about this part. It’s gonna be tougher, this time, after everything that happened._

Hiro tries to ignore the worry that thought brings. “So, you know how long it took?”

The pause is longer, this time. When he looks up at last, Honey’s brows are furrowed in concentration, but he can also see disappointment crossing her face. “Yeah, but… he was working on the initial research for weeks. Maybe a month, before he even started with the actual building.”

“Okay.” He’s trying to keep up, really, but it’s tough to get all the information straight. “So…”

Honey shifts in her seat, glancing down to the floor. “So the school had all that time to go through the paperwork, and get it all approved- the materials, the use of the lab space… everything.”

He tries not to let frustration make his voice harsher. “But there’s gotta be a way to expedite that, right? If he’s done the project once already, would they be more… okay with it all?”

Honey looks visibly uncomfortable now, and stares down at her hands as she’s hunched over in the chair. He’s _never_ known her to avoid eye contact. “HL?” he asks quietly.

She swallows. “He… ran it all by the Robotics department,” she says, hesitating. “He got the grants approved, but…”

…Oh.

Hiro realizes it just before the silence grows to an uncomfortable amount. “Callaghan.”

She nods, and he growls and buries his face in his hands. Of all the rotten luck. Not only is he not exactly _available_ at the moment, but the school likely won’t touch any work associated with Callaghan with a ten-foot-pole.

“We can still see what they’ll say,” Honey offers halfheartedly. But Hiro slumps back in his chair, because she knows as well as he does: he’s not going to get any help from SFIT, on this one. He doesn’t even have the capacity to fully process how _screwed_ this whole plan is. Forget his own failure to plan everything out; his brilliant, genius mission is gonna be derailed because of _money._

…Hell.

“…Okay,” he says. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and he stops as soon as he realizes. “Okay. Alright.”

“Hiro-”

“It’s fine.” He sits up straighter, ignoring the way his voice sounds like it’s about to shatter. “It’s- I just have to take it one step at a time. The materials are one thing, and- and finishing the design, and making sure it’s accurate-”

“Hiro?”

“And everything from there will just be mechanical stuff,” he says, as brightly as he can. “Busy work. It’ll be tough, but- but possible.”

He almost expects her to call his name a third time, or yell, or snap her fingers in front of his face- but she doesn’t interrupt him. She just waits, and when he finally looks at her, she’s… worried. Living with Cass and his brother for so long, he knows a worried face when he sees one. “Uh-huh,” she says, doubt making her words quiet and shaky. “You know, if… if you’re stressed about it, you don’t have to pretend it’ll be simple.”

He feels like his throat’s getting tighter. He sniffs.

She looks down, briefly, lost in thought. “What can we do to help?” she says after a moment.

They’ve talked about this, already, but- there’s an ache behind Hiro’s chest, because even though she knows he’ll have to do most of the work, she’s still trying to make it a little easier for him. His shoulders sag. “Uh… I think it’s still gonna be mostly me,” he says, and his voice is weak and quiet. “It has to, I mean. I don’t mean to, like- say you guys aren’t- I mean, it’s not-”

“No, I know.” She nods quickly. “I get it. But… still. However we can help, you’ll let us know, right?”

“Of course.” He rubs at his forehead again, and tries not to think about how incredibly _tired_ he feels.

“So what are you working on first?”

Okay. Okay, that’s a- that’s a simple question. He can answer that without freaking out. Easy. Besides the research work on restoring corrupted AI, there’s… the notes, and- and the notes that Tadashi compiled, so… it’s fine. He just has to talk about it a little bit. It’s fine.

He swallows. “He, uh- he had a lot of schematics in his notes. Like- diagrams, and stuff. So I’m trying to make sense of those before I start building anything, because- you know, I don’t have the materials yet. But I… will soon. I’ll figure it out.” It’s weird, because he’s repeating the encouragement she tried to tell him minutes ago, but it feels hollow. “And if I can get working models from those blueprints, then- then I’ll double-check everything against the original plans, but-”

She’s watching him with a concerned frown. The words keep coming, though, sounding out before he can really process it all. “I remember parts of his design and functionality, but that’s not a perfect reference, so- I’ll have to build the models while cross-referencing his original notes _and_ his research on AI, because if the access port isn’t built to the specifics of the chip, then none of it will work anyway- and I’ll have to set up the digital models for the skeleton _and_ the exterior, so it all lines up with the way his body is supposed to move and function and react-”

She tries to say something. She looks even more worried.

“And I was gonna 3-d print the skeleton, so the vinyl would fit around that, but it’s not gonna be close enough to the original unless I actually have the right materials underneath, because- because I was already like four days into the work before I remembered carbon fiber works _so differently_ than anything else, but- but I can’t just replicate that, because the stupid actuators don’t properly channel the power source to the right segments unless you make them _absolutely perfect,_ and they make everything else so complicated because they were the ones that he made, himself, here in the lab- and I can’t find his schematics for _those,_ no matter how hard I look-”

He gulps in a breath, but he can’t stop, now. He can’t look at the lab around him, where Tadashi would have worked. He can’t look at her face. “So I’d have to figure out how to accurately reconstruct them, but even if I can, there’s no guarantee it’ll work together with all the other components- and I don’t even _know_ where I can buy bulk quantities of vinyl, because apparently that’s the one thing you _can’t_ find on the Internet; but even if I did, I don’t exactly have the money for that right now, and now _of course_ it turns out that Tadashi got half of the raw materials through a grant from the school, but hey, what do you know, the robotics professor decided to have a mental breakdown and torch a campus building and get my brother killed-” He’s never spat it out like that, cynical and sarcastic and angry, and it feels _awful._ Honey flinches back like he just punched her. “So now _that’s_ out the window, and- and all the power has to be lithium ion, because nothing else will work with the charging station, and I’ve never worked with that at all so I don’t know if I can keep everything running, because if I screw _that_ up than Baymax won’t be able to work for three seconds without his power totally burning out, and- and I can’t make hyperspectral cameras from _scratch_ , because that’s completely insane, and I think I always just assumed that they wouldn’t break, so I wouldn’t ever have to worry about new ones; and I don’t know how Tadashi got them because I _never asked him about it-”_

His breath catches. The silence in the room is suddenly thick like water. He’s breathing, but- but it somehow feels like he can’t. Like he’s choking. “I never asked him about Baymax,” he says, numb, wondering why everything he’s saying hurts so much, and his thoughts spiral off into questions that don’t matter- he can’t be numb and hurting at the same time, that’s stupid- and why is he even thinking about himself right now- why is he always, _always_ thinking about _himself_ \- “-even when I met you guys, and I saw Baymax, I just- I was only worried about how I’d get into the school. After that, I never asked about him.” He closes his eyes, and the words keep coming, but it still hurts. “I made him help me with the microbots, and he- he kept making sure I wouldn’t give up, even though he could have kept working on his own projects, and… I didn’t even know that he brought Baymax home because I wasn’t paying attention- and I didn’t-”

His chest is heaving, and his throat burns; dimly, gradually, he realizes that he’s crying, but he has no idea when it started. “I didn’t ask him because I didn’t _care_ , and it wasn’t- he wasn’t- he’s not coming back, so I can’t ask him, but I have to bring Baymax back but I can’t do it because _I don’t know how because I didn’t care-”_

A sob cuts off his words, and he truly can’t say anything else; it’s all stuck in his throat, pushing and breaking and hurting until he can’t do anything except shut his eyes tight and bury his head in his hands.

It’s not silent, now, because he can hear himself, sniffling and coughing and crying no matter how badly he wants to clamp it all down, keep it muffled and fight it back- push it away- but he can’t-

“…Hiro.”

Gently, like she’s scared she’ll hurt him, Honey eventually lets her hand rest on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and he can almost _hear_ tears in her voice- he seems to have a real knack for hurting his friends, he thinks darkly- before she clears her throat to try to keep her words even. “I didn’t… think about it all like that. And I’m sorry, that- that there’s so much pressure.”

He can’t say anything. He’s pretty sure if he tries, it’ll come out as more crying, and he can’t- he can’t keep breaking down. He has to be stronger. He has to find a way.

He doesn’t have time for crying.

“I, um- I want to say one thing,” Honey says with hesitation. “And hear me out, okay?” She seems to be waiting for him, so he shudders and gives a slight nod without looking at her. “Okay. You- I mean, I’m not-” Another pause. It’s so, so strange, hearing her tripped up in her words, like she doesn’t know exactly what to say.

“…He was so proud of you.”

He whips his head up, fast, and doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he’s staring her in the face- and she flinches, because she probably wasn’t expecting that at all, and Hiro’s sure he probably still has red cheeks and red eyes and tears streaming down his face, but right now he doesn’t care. “He bragged about you. All the time,” Honey adds, and there’s even a small smile. “He’d talk about how smart you are, and how he’s never seen anyone so good with robotics, and how sometimes you’d both throw dumb jokes back and forth until your aunt was laughing so hard she couldn’t say anything.”

He blinks, and instead of a dozen thoughts cutting at him, there’s only one. And it’s rising slowly, like a tidal wave.

“In fact- there was one time, he said that you’d be even smarter than him, one day.” Honey’s still smiling, but she’s looking away, like she’s lost in thought. “He said… you were going to change the world.”

Hiro has the distinct feeling that he doesn’t want to hear this.

“So-” Honey furrows her brow, clearly thinking over her words carefully. “…You don’t _have_ to feel like you… did something wrong, by him. I mean, I’m sure you got on his nerves once in a while, but that’s- that’s nothing.” She shrugs. “He really, really cared about you, Hiro.”

The wave is crashing, breaking in bits and pieces as the single thought filters through: she’s trying to help him.

Her hand squeezes his shoulder. “And he would never be disappointed in you.”

_That’s not true._

She’s trying to help him, but she doesn’t realize- saying how proud he was, and how loving and kind and everything else, and how Hiro meant so much to him- and it’s kind of funny, because that only makes everything _worse;_ how could Hiro possibly let him down, when he had _so much_ faith in him, how could he ignore him and only ever think about himself and- and he _would_ be disappointed, because he can _see_ it, he can see Tadashi standing in their room and looking down at him and drawing his hand across his face-

_“Unbelievable-”_

_“What would M-”_

Hiro’s breathing catches, and for a second, he can’t even look at her. It’s- it’s _funny_ , honestly, ha ha, yeah, just funny, funny that she’s trying to help and it should be helping but it’s not. His head is spinning, and he feels like the rest of the room is staring at him through glass; but Honey’s right there, and he’s not alone.

So what the hell is happening?

But he must hide it really well, because she doesn’t seem to notice. “And Baymax- well,” she begins, then takes her hand away and folds her hands in front of her. “I miss him too. I’m sure we all do. And- and obviously I can’t wait to see him again, but-”

He can’t translate his thoughts into audible words. It’s all spinning, spinning, tearing itself apart, and he can’t make it make _sense._

“But- but I don’t want that to hurt _you.”_

…What?

He looks at her again, thoroughly baffled, but she continues before he can interrupt. “And if you need to step back, or take a break, then- then that’s more important, all right? You need to make sure you don’t push yourself too hard.”

His brain can’t comprehend what she’s saying. This doesn’t make sense.

(And Tadashi once told him he gets this look on his face sometimes- like a robot- ‘does not compute’, he’d said, in a goofy flat voice and everything- but Tadashi is g-)

She’s still just _looking_ at him, with a concerned, take-better-care-of-yourself glare that Aunt Cass would be proud of. “You’re doing _so much,_ Hiro. And it’s all bearing down on you at once. _No one_ would be able to handle all of it at the same time.”

(But _he_ did, so why can’t-)

“You’re not failing. I promise, you’re not failing.”

(Why would she say that, why would she _say that-)_

She’s smiling a bit, now, trying to give a lighter tone. “And, if Baymax were here- he’d want you to be healthy, you know? That was pretty much his whole deal.”

And for some reason, his mind takes the words and spins them around until they sound different- _Is this what Baymax would have wanted-_

_-Baymax is GONE-_

He jerks, and his whole body moves- pulls away- he’s standing, suddenly, rearing back until his foot hits one of the wheels of the rolling chair and the whole thing pitches sideways- Honey’s eyes go from concerned to confused to shock, and she’s reaching out to stop him, but he staggers and keeps his balance, so… now he’s just kind of standing there, feeling like an idiot who just randomly freaked out and jumped backwards and nearly fell over.

The following silence is, of course, awkward. He’s getting tired of that.

Hiro opens his mouth to say something, to apologize, or explain, or… whatever. Something. Anything. But he can’t.

She still looks confused, and tilts her head. “Uh… Hiro?”

“God,” he breathes, out, but he’s not sure why. “ _God._ ” He grabs the edge of the desk, because he feels like he’s swaying, or maybe just shaking- and he breathes slowly, because this is _not_ the time to freak out. Any more than he already has, anyway.

“Hiro, are you-”

“I’m _fine,”_ he blurts out, quick and hissing and rasping, and it sounds foreign to him- like it’s someone else speaking.

When Honey speaks, her voice is calmer and resolute. “No, you’re not. Hiro, you look… exhausted.”

Hiro doesn’t look at her. His hands clench against the edge of the desk, and he’s suddenly looking at the computer again- there’s still so much research to do- he hasn’t made _nearly_ enough progress, but- but she was talking about how he has to pace himself, and slow down, or else he’ll burn out completely. And she’s right.

She’s right.

She’s right.

She’s right, so why can’t he- why can’t he just-

 _Believe_ it-

This time, she doesn’t say anything. She just waits, and he’s grateful, because if she asked something else he’d probably just snap at her again, so he waits for the buzzing in his head to pass and waits for the shaking to die down and slowly, slowly sits back down in the rolling chair and breathes more evenly and blinks a few more times and, eventually, looks back at her.

“Sorry,” he says, and he can’t help feeling that he sounds like a little kid. Insincere, and pathetic, and not nearly substantial enough. But Honey just gives another smile, smaller and sadder this time.

There’s a faint thought that she should be _angry_ at him, but it fades before he can wonder why.

“It’s alright,” she says softly, but there’s no energy in her words, anymore. She just sounds tired. “I’m… sorry, too.”

“For what?” he says. His head is in his hands, now, but he’s not crying.

Eventually, she sighs. “Not sure,” she admits. “But I obviously said something that set you off, so… I’m sorry if I made anything worse.” Another pause. “Mostly, I’m just sorry that this is all hurting so much in the first place.”

He doesn’t answer; he doesn’t know what on earth to say, and he’s too tired to think of anything. “But I guess I already said that,” Honey says quietly, and her words sort of trail off, quietly, like it doesn’t really matter.

…

Earlier, his thoughts were flying in and out of worry and fear so fast he could barely keep track; now, though, he feels like nothing. It all focuses down to one thought:

It could just be… this. For months, and months, until he finally gets Baymax back.

If he succeeds at all.

And he swears Honey can read minds, because she speaks up again. “You know you’ll do it, right? You know you’re gonna figure it out.”

No. No, he doesn’t _know_ that. And for a moment, he’s mad at her- mad that she thinks she knows, mad that she’s telling him what he should believe, mad that she _knows_ him-

Her hand closes over his. “Hey.”

Finally, he looks up, and she smiles.

“Don’t give up on yourself, okay?”

No.

No, why- why’d she have to say _that_ , exactly- even those stupid words- way too close to-

There are a hundred different feelings burning in him right now, but he can’t explain any of them, so he just gives a smile back- it’s fake, it’s fake, it’s a dirty lie and it hurts- and takes another deep breath like everything’s okay.

“And talk to us.” Lightly, she glances a punch off his shoulder- it strikes him as something Go Go would do. “I mean it, okay? We’re still a team.”

…Right.

He tries to focus on her, instead of the myriad thoughts he’s barely succeeding at ignoring. “Yeah,” he says, for the umpteenth time. He wonders if ‘yeah’ is a super-obvious sign that he’s not being totally honest. It probably is. “Yeah.”

“You’ll get him back. I know it.”

And now Hiro’s even more worried, because she said it _again_ , like- like she’s trying to convince herself. Maybe she’s as unsure about all this as he is. Maybe she… doesn’t know what to do, either.

“I wish I could just talk to him,” he says in a small voice. It doesn’t sum up everything he’s thinking, but maybe it doesn’t have to.

Honey sighs. “…I know. And you _will.”_

She’s so certain. She’s so absolutely sure, and he- he hasn’t felt like that in a while. He hides it, though, offering a hint of a smile as he straightens up. He catches her glancing back to her workstation, across the room, and he’s quick to say, “You can, uh- you can head back, if you want.”

She’s still looking at him with concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Hiro realizes with a start that his eyes have unfocused, and he’s looking at the wall over her shoulder, instead of at her. “I’m- good,” he says eventually. “Pretty much covered everything.”

“Alright.” It’s still an awkward silence. And he still feels like his stomach is churning up into his chest. It’s a gross image, but weirdly fitting.

She’s just about to sit down at the other desk-

“Hey,” he blurts out.

“Hm?” That same smile is shining towards him again.

He’s lying. She thinks he’s okay, and he’s lying.

He hasn’t even told her the chip is corrupted.

_-pretending everything’s fine-_

_-jokes and texts, like you’re not hiding everything from them, like you’re not falling apart-_

Hiro drops his gaze to the floor. “Just- thanks,” he mumbles. It probably seems like he’s just embarrassed.

The chip is corrupted. He hasn’t told her.

The chip is corrupted.

The smile is more relaxed, now. More real, he thinks. “Anytime,” she says gently. “I mean it, okay? We all have each other’s backs.”

Hiro’s going to say something else, he’s- he’s going to respond, somehow, but then-

Blank. For a second, he can’t think of anything at all. He’s only staring at Honey, feeling completely lost, because- he doesn’t-

She gives a comically exaggerated two-thumbs-up pose, then grabs her headphones and starts typing soon after. Hiro gives a dumb nod, even though she’s not looking at him.

…The feeling’s still there.

Slowly, Hiro turns to his notes and the computer in front of him. The monitor is making a faint buzzing noise, and when he takes in a breath, it sounds far too loud in the quiet room.

He just… told her way more than he meant to. But he’s still half-lying. And she’s trying to help him, trying to be a friend, while he- honestly, he was thinking about himself the whole time. All the problems, piling up, pushing him down and making it so he can’t think about anything else. Only himself.

Like he always does.

Hiro’s still looking down at his hands. There’s a moment, fleeting but strong, where he thinks- and realizes- and there’s something cold and lonely rising up in his thoughts, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. A specific feeling- like he’s an impostor. Something unreal.

Hiro stares at the screen in front of him, which has gone dark since he left it alone for so long. All he can see is his face, reflected in an empty black square. He blinks.

Feels like pretending. Feels like something he doesn’t deserve. He pictures Tadashi here in the lab, introducing his little brother to all his friends, and joking with them- laughing- talking-

A sick pit of unease sinks heavily in his chest. No, he realizes, not heavy- _angry_ , and buzzing and sharp and about to collapse.

(Because he doesn’t know Fred, and he doesn’t know her either- he honestly can’t remember if she has siblings, or what she’s hoping to do with her future, or what her hobbies are, besides _chemistry_ , of course, since that’s all he _cared_ about knowing, wasn’t it, that she’s an awfully good shot with the chem-grenades-)

…

But maybe it’s fine. Maybe he’s overreacting. He broke down, yeah- but Honey was there, and he smiled and wiped his tears dry, and now it’s time to move on. He just has to quit worrying so much. He has to focus on getting Baymax back. It’s fine.

He breathes deep, with a shudder.

It’s fine.

Berating himself, Hiro scowls at his reflection before the screen lights up again. There’s work to do.

He takes notes. He pores over articles, and examines his own research against other sources. He brings up older scans of Baymax, along with some of the blueprints he was considering earlier. Honey lets him chip away at the project in peace; he doesn’t actually notice when she leaves.

He keeps working. It’s probably pretty late by now, but he… he doesn’t have to worry. He still has… time… before Cass, will… get… worried…

…

Hiro startles awake, lost for a moment as to where he is- and the evening only becomes more of a jumbled mess from there.

Closing up the lab is normally a hassle, more so when he’s still half-groggy from exhaustion. Way, _way_ later than he meant to, he catches the tram and nearly dozes off again- he’s pretty sure the only thing that keeps him from missing his stop is the sheer terror of thinking he might, in fact, miss his stop. Awkwardly shuffling through the back door, reasonably sure that he's only avoiding a lecture from Cass because the café’s busy with a late-night rush of other college students, and she doesn’t have a minute to spare- throwing all his school stuff in the attic, standing in the middle of the room, realizing he doesn’t have a single idea what to do with the rest of the night- grabbing some leftovers from the fridge, heading back upstairs, eating in front of a Youtube video he doesn’t even really care about-

…

He’s just so, so freaking tired. He’ll talk to Aunt Cass tomorrow. And- dimly, he notices that there are a few texts from the gang, minus HL, on his phone- he’ll get to those later, too. Nothing major: just a _hey are you doing alright_ here and a _you seemed super out of it, man, just wanted to see if things are good_ there. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

…

God, this was such a wash.

…

He has to sleep. Duh. But- but the problem is-

…

Eventually, he gives up. Brushes his teeth. Throws on shorts and a ratty T-shirt. Tries his best to not worry too much, and climbs into bed.

…

The dreams have been getting worse.

The cliché of it is pretty embarrassing. He absolutely _refuses_ to wake up by bolting upright in a cold sweat, like the movies, and he is _not_ going to stare out rainy windows while wondering ‘what it all _means,_ man.’ (How would you even wake up like that? He’s pretty sure it’s not a real thing. Wouldn’t you just fall over?)

But all the same, they’re there, and they aren’t stopping. Sometimes it’s just memories, but twisted and warped. Flying with Baymax, except the blimps in the skyline are drifting through the pinks and purples of hyperspace, instead, and he can never stop the giant piece of debris from slamming into them both. Bot fights in the alleys, but the fighters are made out of his microbots, and there’s always an awful moment where they start to go crazy and swarm towards his friends, attacking them, and everyone turns and stares at the transmitter firmly on Hiro’s head.

Tadashi, sometimes. Those dreams are the worst. Especially if nothing terrible happens, and nothing goes wrong. Talking about school. Working on the project for the showcase. Arguing over who’s taking out the garbage. Escaping back alleys on a motorcycle.

Those dreams wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t have to wake up.

But the one, single image that keeps coming back- when he’s drifting off, or just before he wakes up, or any time in between- is the mask. Back when they were still thinking of Callaghan as ‘Yokai’. He can picture it clear as day, in his mind: the yellow eyes, the blank white sheen over the face, and the jagged red gashes.

It’s always there. And, lately, something else- Yokai’s black-gloved hand, pointing out of the darkness. Pointing right at him.

It’s just a stupid dream. Nothing to worry about. There’s no reason to feel his heart pounding when he wakes up, still feeling that Yokai- not Callaghan, but _Yokai_ , like a mythical figure that’s left reality completely and drifts around like a ghost- is staring him down, almost… accusing?

It doesn’t make sense. It’s silly to worry about it. Why would he dream about the mask, when he already knows who’s behind it? It could be that his brain’s playing some kind of bad joke, and maybe in the future he’ll have a dream where the mask falls off, and it’s actually Mochi or something, like a cheesy horror movie dream sequence. The thought’s a little funny, at least.

Or, it was. The first time. It’s less funny now, when he has the exact same dream, and that hand is still pointed straight at him.

…

Ha.

…

He wakes up normally, blinking up at the dark attic.

…

He’s alone.


	9. October, 8

_Hell, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you at all.  
_

_…_

_…_

_…_

October sees a few unseasonably warm days before the month is out.

Cass squirms under her jacket, but doesn’t remove it. She could have left it in the car, she supposes, but no point wondering about that now. She’s likely letting her mind wander- strange, since she expected to have a harder time thinking about anything _except_ the reason she’s here.

Like the way Hiro stammered a half-excuse before rushing out the door to class this morning, or the way that it was better, at least, than how he simply glared in her direction the day before. And the way she- doesn’t know how to talk to him, it feels like.

…

It was colder last time.

She stares at the name, and the random, unimportant thoughts continue. Cemeteries _should_ be cold, she feels. Right? Last time, it seemed… appropriate, with the rain and the chill in the air. And she’s only ever been to two other burials- or just one, really, since they lowered both caskets at the same time.

But it was cold, then, too. And dark, with thick clouds hanging low like the sky itself was about to come crashing down.

Now, it’s… this. No wind. No clouds. Just a warm, friendly blue sky, with the sun beating down like nothing is wrong in the entire world. There are flowers at the base of the gravestone- not just from her, and more than she remembers from the funeral. Maybe people who knew him from school have stopped by, too. They’re completely still, bright colors against the dull gray of the stone, and there’s a lily with a drooping petal that half-hides the name _Hamada._ It barely brushes against _brother,_ and the tip of another petal nearly reaches down to _remembered._

It’s quiet, and peaceful. Tranquil, even.

It makes her feel sick.

She fidgets, looking at her phone once in a while to check the time- though she has nowhere to be, she knows. She has the morning off, and Bethany’s one of the more reliable managers, so she can handle running the café for a few hours. Plus, with Ethel picking up more hours, the place isn’t about to fall apart at the seams anymore.

She told them she had to take care of some paperwork, for the school. Hiro’s late admission, and all that. For some reason, she didn’t want to tell them the truth.

…It’s the first time she’s come back.

She doesn’t know if this is considered too soon. Or maybe she should have visited sooner? Either way, it always gave her a tense and paralyzed feeling whenever she thought about it, but this morning, she finally made up her mind that she was simply _going_ , and that was that; but now that she’s here, she has no idea what to do.

She notices that she’s been staring at her feet for the last thirty seconds.

She doesn’t want to look at the headstone, or the flowers, or the name. Hell, she doesn’t want to look at the dead-silent world around her, with its blue sky and perfect weather and vivid flowers.

She’s letting her thoughts wander to anything, things that don’t matter, and she knows exactly why, but she can’t- she still can’t-

…

Cass bites her lip and coughs away the sob that wants to get out.

The cemetery is still.

…

She remembers something, even though she’s not trying to. It was only six months or so after they’d lost their parents. Hiro had been having a tantrum, and he’d thrown a cup full of apple juice at the wall- and Tadashi, her eight-year-old, thoughtful, patient nephew, had looked at her and very seriously told her that Hiro was going to need some ‘serious road models’ in his life.

There’s the ghost of a laugh, and a swelling in her throat at the same time- Cass hugs her arms tight around her torso. A bird flies low, over a few other gravestones in the corner of her eye.

And now she’s seeing him at seventeen, proudly standing in front of a shiny new moped in the garage- and she’s stunned, because she knew he’d been saving up, but not _that_ much, and she’s babbling forty things at once because she’s torn between _I’m so proud of you_ and _listen up mister, here are the safety rules you are GOING to follow, and this is not a discussion_ but he already has a printout of California’s statutes regarding two-wheeled motor vehicles in his shirt pocket, because he’s the most prepared person she’s ever met- and Hiro flies past her and immediately asks Tadashi if he can drive it, and Cass has _never_ been more grateful to her nephew than when he bops the paper on Hiro’s forehead and cheerfully says, “Not a chance, knucklehead.”

Now he’s- he’s walking out of the showcase, one arm around Hiro, the other giving his younger brother a noogie as they both laugh, and he’s so full of pride and joy he looks like he’ll burst, and _Hiro_ looks so happy, and they- they’re both-

Cass bites down on her lip.

She hates, hates, _hates_ that it’s so warm.

“I guess I’m not sure what to say.”

Say something, say anything, because it’s better than keeping it all swirling around in her head, getting darker and heavier and never seeing the light-

“It’s been… tough. But we’re- we’ll be alright.”

Cass swallows. Her words sound so- so _small_ , and useless, like rocks thrown out into the ocean and vanishing forever. Or a single shadow, a silhouette, powerless against the blinding light of a roaring-

“We’ll be-” she tries again, but the words fade. It’s quiet. It’s so quiet, and warm, and peaceful, and- and she can’t-

Her foot jerks back. She’s _dizzy_ , she realizes suddenly, almost shaking- only her foot moving automatically kept her from falling over. Slowly, hesitating, she kneels down until she’s resting on the grass, sitting in front of the stone cross-legged.

Then, Cass breathes out. And closes her eyes, and leans forward, and her head is in her hands, and…

“…I just don’t know.”

It’s a sob more than it is words, and she’s breathing loudly, now, with hiccups and gasps because she can’t even _think_ , let alone say anything more- because it hurts too much, and she doesn’t know what to do, because there’s no one here- no one to help-

She hears birds, even through her crying, and for some irrational reason that strikes her as _ridiculous_ , because it’s autumn and it’s a graveyard and she’s hurting and weeping and why on earth are there _birds singing in the trees?_ And randomly, without any logical reason, that last memory comes to mind again- the steps of the auditorium- and his friends are scattering to the parking lot, intent on heading to the Lucky Cat, and she turns back to see him smiling- they're _both_ smiling. 

Like nothing in the world can stop them.

“Aunt Cass? We’ll, uh… we’ll catch up, okay?”

And- that was it. That was the last thing he ever said to her. What did she say back, though? What was the last thing…

“Oh, I’m so proud of you! Both of you!”

It’s some small, pitiful measure of grace that their last encounter was a heartfelt and happy moment. Even so, it doesn’t feel like nearly enough, like- like she should have said a million other things, should have- should have reached out and _stopped_ him-

No. No, no, she won’t let herself start thinking that way. It’s hard enough without- without blaming herself. She can’t start… no. She won’t. Cass takes a shuddering breath, and finally looks back up at the gravestone, and forces herself to keep her gaze steady.

“Tadashi, I- I don’t know,” she whispers again. “I don’t know if I can do this again.”

Birds. Sun. Blue sky.

“…I love you so much,” she says, quieter still, not quiet enough to mask the way her voice breaks, like the sound and the air and the words can’t quite come together, reaching down into her lungs and breaking what she meant to say, because she could _never_ say all that she wanted to; her throat closes up, and there’s another heaving sob, and she has to close her eyes and hold her breath until it passes.

One. Two.

Breathe out, and the leaves rustle in the trees overhead- maybe the birds flew away, because she can’t hear the singing anymore.

Three. Four.

Breathe. Her eyes open, and- the grass is dead brown and faded green, almost tan some places- it hasn’t rained much recently, and she dimly remembers hearing warnings about being careful with flames of any kind, to avoid starting wildfires- it’s a stupid, cruel irony, and she wishes she could stop herself from thinking of things like that. It rises up in her like bile, angry and bitter, angry at herself and at that professor and the school for having that stupid contest in the first place-

…

But no, it’s mostly her.

It’s _all_ her, the more she thinks about it.

Say something else, again- anything- because it’s better than keeping it all-

“This is going to sound… strange,” she begins, then closes her eyes again, willing herself to push it all to the side, because she’s not _thinking_ about that right now. She’s thinking about- “Those heroes. Um. They showed up when the professor was- he was trying to destroy a building, I think, and a lot of people were in danger.”

She tries to smile. “They stopped him, so no one was hurt- and no one’s seen them since. Everyone’s been calling them heroes, but… I don’t know what to think. They just appeared, one day, and then they were gone.”

It feels kind of silly, telling a story to an empty field, but she makes herself focus on the name on the stone, and pulls the words out of her mind like pulling a heavy rope from a well. “Some even… they flew into the-” She trails off. “I’m not sure, exactly. No one can agree what really happened, but- they saved someone’s life. She was one of the scientists who worked for Krei.”

She pauses. It’s strange, because- he’d _want_ to talk about this, and he and Hiro would love to discuss the story, with heroes and science and the future of research corporations hanging in the balance- she can practically see them, arguing over the dinner table, about which hero was the coolest and how this would affect scientific discoveries going forward, and what exactly happened with Krei Industries, which she barely even knew about, and… and he would explain it to her, over and over, patiently. Hiro would cut in to make snarky comments, and Tadashi would casually reach over and slap a hand over his mouth- and all three of them would be making each other laugh.

That moment- all of them, so many nights and mornings and trips and simple, everyday moments-

All of it, gone.

She pushes it to the side. Again. “It was dangerous,” she continues. “They must have been… terrified. But- they went in, anyway.”

Just say it, because if she says it- if she can tell herself the real reason this is all connected, the reason it’s making her cry just to think about it, then… Cass smiles through tears, and clears her throat. “In a way, it… made me think of you.”

…

Nothing changes. It’s still quiet, still warm, still… bright.

She stands up- a bit dizzy, but it passes, and she looks back to the gravestone-

She sighs, because there’s nothing more to say.

But there _is,_ because she had no idea how much she relied on him, especially with Hiro, and now she doesn’t know _what_ to do about him, because he- he looked up to him so much, even if he would never admit it, and she… she always dreamed of seeing them both succeed, and grow up, and change the world-

Well. Maybe she’ll have the words next time.

Cass stretches, and looks up, and feels the sunlight on her face.

...

...

...

...

**Next chapter: INTERLUDE 2**


	10. Interlude, 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely feel like I should apologize for this one. 
> 
> I won't be offended if you skip it.

**[]**

**“Don’t None of Y’all Test Me, I Mean It, I Set Up This Chat so I Make the Rules and If You Don’t Like It, Tough, In Here I Am God™”**

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** fred are you okay

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** you seem more, I dunno

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** megalomaniacal than usual

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** everybody shut up, I have news

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Can we talk about how excellent that word usage was?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** nO

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** ikr

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Ten out of ten, would read again.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Fred are you actually okay though???

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use ‘megalomaniacal’… ever, actually.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** yeah yeah, A+, model student, you officially aced all of your tests forever BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** score

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** school doesn’t work that way, but I’ll take it

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** this bitch is going up on the fridge

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** framed

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** mommy are you proud of me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** enough of your heinous cursing, for we have urgent matters to discuss

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Fred, I don’t think-

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** oh

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** darn it, it’s so tough to tell when you guys are seriously angry and when you’re just messing with each other! I keep thinking I have to prevent a fight or something!!!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** hl seriously

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** you are too pure for this world

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** I’m afraid this chat is going to corrupt you or something

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** See, right there! I don’t even know what you mean by that!

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** oh, wait.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** you’re just being sarcastic… right? It’s just part of the joke

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** I think I’m getting it!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** what no that was legit

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** sincerity to the max up in here

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** um

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** …yeah, I can see how this might get confusing

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** HL, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Nothing said here ends up mattering, at all. Pretty much across the board.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I don’t think we’ll even remember this in two days, much less be offended.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** thanks for looking out for us, though, youre the best and we love you

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** aww thanks!

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** It’s kinda like how you can technically write awful, obscene things with an Etch-A-Sketch. Vile, even. But at the end of the day… yeah.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** incorrect, sir

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** instant messaging is forever, and I haVE RECEIPTS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** OF THE MANY WAYS I’VE BEEN WRONGED

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** okay, see, this one I’m not sure about

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** but I’m gonna say… joking?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** ding ding what did our contestant win today, bob

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** looks like

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** a new caaaaaaar

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** viciously mocking an innocent friendo is not a joke

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** it is very serious business

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** >:(

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** did I just see a godforsaken hand-typed one-character-at-a-time emoticon

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** did we just timewarp to 2009 or something

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Oh, no. No. Absolutely not.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** This is where I’m drawing the line.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred, you don’t know what kind of hell you’re toying with here. I’ve seen conversations become completely unreadable.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** oh really ;P

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** uh-oh

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** I think it’s kind of funny!

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Do you want me to give you the anarchy speech again?

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I will.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** oh no

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** or should I say

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** <:o

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** That’s it.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Society has rules. This fundamental aspect of human nature is intrinsically linked to our understanding of what ‘government’ is truly meant to accomplish; therefore, to further explore and understand the concept of ‘society’, this primary assertion must have a continuation that critically examines forms of both local and national government, as well as take a strong stance regarding the risks and benefits of each. To begin, prudence dictates that the scholar first ask why humanity needs any governance, in the first place. In other words, what is the purpose of any singular ‘law’, in the human consciousness? In society itself?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** fred what have you done

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** IM SORRY I DIDN’T’ MEAN IT

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I have twenty pages. Single-spaced.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Kill the faces, Fred.

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** are we still joking???

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** kinda

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** No.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** nvm guess not

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** but for real guys stop getting me off track I have URGENT BUSINESS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** so listen up!!!

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** this is more confusing than class! I wish I could get the hang of reading sarcasm in texts like you guys

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** no, you don’t

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** you think you do, but

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** treasure your innocence, child

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** it is a wondrous thing, and easily lost

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** NO ONE IS PAYING ATTENTION

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I agree. Don’t sell your soul for memes.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** It’s too late for us. You, though- there is hope for you.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Forget this place. Live a live of hope and joy.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Flee.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** whoa I got chills

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** ugh!!! why are we always so dramatic??

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** oh my god

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** if I had to sum up my life in a single sentence

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has renamed the chat ‘Why Are We Always So Dramatic’!**

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** evyerregbody hut up shtis h si sieoruis

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** good lord

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** fred did you just have a stroke

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** or maybe

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** I am the one who stroked

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** is this where I die

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I WAS TYPING GAFAST OKAY

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** AND THEN I DROPPED MY PHONE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I REPEAT, EVERYBODY SHUT UP THIS IS SERIOUS

**[]**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has reset the chat name to default ‘Group Chat’!**

**[]**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** wait

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** blargh! That’s not what I mean to do!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** A for effort, though

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** I like your moxie, kid

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** why does nobody listen to me :’(

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** …Frederick, I swear to God.

**[]**

**Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin has renamed the chat ‘evyerregbody hut up shtis h si sieoruis’!**

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** why

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** why is life suffering

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** was that right?? Did it change?

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** haha you’re a natural

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** nobody change the name this one’s perfect

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Yay!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** seriously you’re like a ball of sunshine

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** go go you’re so sweet! <3

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** <3

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** beep beep yellow flags flyin all up in here because I call FOUL

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** that was flagrant REF GET EM OUTTA HERE

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Overruled.

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** oooh hijacking the football joke with a courtroom metaphor

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** in other words

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** interception lol

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** wasabi come on!!! How come THEY can get away with that?!?

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** Oh, I know this one! Because of an arbitrary and unhealthy cultural construct that sees masculinity as a fragile, easily-corrupted façade that has to be maintained at all times! Therefore, it’s more socially acceptable for women to compliment each other than men, for nearly any reason and in nearly any situation- because we’ve subconsciously taught men that showing emotion, affection, and friendship brings an inherent risk of being seen as ‘unmanly’!

 **Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** whoa

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE EMOTICONS you innocent and knowledgable unicorn of goodness

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I can’t even be MAD at you because that was a very well-structured point that you typed in like twenty seconds, and im really impressed

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** DAMMIT

 **Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin** **:** …thank you?

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **has changed Honey_you_got_a_big_storm_comin’s name to ‘Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness’!**

**[]**

**Go_Go_Power_Rangers** **:** yr welcome

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** haha I’m flattered! Thanks gog

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** *thansk Gogo

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has changed Go_Go_Power_Rangers’s name to ‘gog’!**

**[]**

**Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** um

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** so, small problem.

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** I can’t seemy texts anymore?/? the name keeps moving trippng up the screne

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** To be honest, on mine, the whole conversation’s gone. That name takes up all the space.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I can’t even see what I’m typing right now.

 **gog** **:** yeah you’re right this is kind of a nightmare

 **gog** **:** wait

 **gog** **:** fred wtf

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** lol hi gog

 **Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness** **:** GUYS WHAT DO IDO

 **gog:** I got this

**[]**

**gog has changed Innocent_and_Knowledgeable_Unicorn_of_Goodness’s name to ‘Honey_badger_dgaf’!**

**[]**

**Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** whew! I can see now!

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** I don’t think I get the reference but that’s okay!

**[]**

**gog has changed gog’s name to ‘Sold_my_soul_for_memes’!**

**[]**

**Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** much better

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** boo

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** Wasabi, im really impressed you can still have perfect spelling and grammar without seeing your texts!

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I do what I can.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** oh come on, ‘gog’ was hilarious

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** go go that new one’s not even a pun what the heck

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** it’s like you’re not even trying

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** :P

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** OH COME ON

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Actually, I kind of forgot we could change our names.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I should try to come up with something.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** no shut up

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** my OG nicknames were the best and it’s all been downhill from there

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** do you know how long it took to come up with pun jokes based on each of your individual names

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:**...nicknames you gave us in the first place, you goof

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** tell me right now that ‘go go power rangers’ isn’t literally the FIRST joke you thought of

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** tell me it took you more than ten seconds to come up with

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I came out to have a good time and honestly

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** um

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I don’t remember the rest but f u

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** guys stop fighting! I still can’t tell if you’re joking or not

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** but this is getting really annoying! Fred, what did you actually want to tell us?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** Oh right

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** it was that

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** …

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** damn HL layin down the law

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Right? That was a swift and effective end to the nonsense that is our conversations. Kind of embarrassing, honestly.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I feel like a babysitter who was supposed to make sure the kids behaved themselves, and the parents just got home and found pizza all over the walls.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** perfect analogy, imo

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I try.

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** Fred? Are you still there?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** …

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** omg

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** fred, did you actually forget what you were going to say

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** that’s hilarious

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** no shut up

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** WAIT I GOT IT

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat ‘Spy Mission’!**

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** You have to admit, it’s a little funny that you forgot the thing you tried to bring up, like, six times.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** we’re MOVING ON, NEW CONVERSATION

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** IF THE NEW CHAT NAME DIDN’T MAKE THAT CLEAR ENOUGH YOU PLEBIANS

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** fred what the hell do you want

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Good Lord, how have we been texting this much, and we haven’t actually gotten to Fred’s original point yet?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** im gonna take HLs silence as a sign that she’s deeply disappointed in us

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** which, I mean

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** fair

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** AS

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** YOU

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** MAY

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** HAVE

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** NOTICED

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** our resident Hamada is getting a little big for his tiny science britches

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** …Hiro? uh

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** Fred I don’t think

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** maybe we shouldn't

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** by this of course I mean, he adamantly refuses to tell me his middle name

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:**...what

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Are you serious?

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** that’s why you started the chat?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** I repeat

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** WHAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I made a joke about his middle name, then I realized I don’t actually know it

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** then I asked him and he wouldn’t tell me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** naturally I need to find out at all costs

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** but… why?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** because he doesn’t want to tell me?? obviously??

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** guys I think fred’s some kind of secret comedy genius

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** this is the most gloriously anticlimactic thing ive ever heard

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** he was trying to get to this point for HOURS

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred, you realize what’s especially funny about your question, right?

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** No!? I don’t?! and I would greatly appreciate some friendly understanding on the matter!!!

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** Do YOU guys know it?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** in a manner of speaking yeah

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Don’t tell him.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** WHY

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** oh, I just got it! Ha ha! I had to think about it for a sec!

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** AAAAAAGH

**[]**

**Fred_dead_Fredemption has renamed the chat ‘Spy Mission AND IF YOU DON’T BHELP ME, I’M NEVE RTALKING TO ANY OF YOU AGIAN’!**

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** By any chance, did you disable autocorrect? I’d be fascinated to know if this is because you stopped using it, or because it’s not working properly. Either is possible. It sometimes causes more misspellings than it solves.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** lol

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** seriously what is it with you and these longass names

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** actually scratch that, more important question

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** do you really want us to help you snoop and figure out hiro’s middle name

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** yes precisely

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you’re acting like that’s SUCH a weird thing, but I see it as just friends helping each other out

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** and maybe solving a mystery also

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** as friends do

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** except APPARENTLY, you guys already KNOW said middle name, and you’re just REFUSING TO TELL ME, so basically both my spy mission to find out Hiro’s middle name AND my hopes of going on a grand adventure with a squad of buddies have been dashed

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** DASHED I SAY

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Well, we don’t… ‘know’ the name, exactly.

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** WHAT

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I mean…

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lol don’t tell him

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** wait

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** uh oh

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** …What on earth?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** omg

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** hi, Hiro!!!

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** sup yall

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** so

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** I can explain

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I’m kind of lost right now.

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lemme break it down

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** you remember how fred was talking about being king of the chat and everything, since he started it

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** and he has all this power and stuff

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** so basically

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** he forgot to block me from this one

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** DICKS

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** That’s actually amazing.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** god in heaven I think I just choked

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** I can’t stop laughing

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** why didn’t you say anything???

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** shrug

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** don’t you type the word ‘shrug’ at me instead of an actual answer!

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lol

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** but yeah ive technically been here the whole time

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** and now I am the one who is betrayed, fred

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** how the tables have turned

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** or should I say

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** uh, turncoat

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** tables

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** just picture tables with coats on them, and they’re turning? I dunno theres a pun in there somewhere

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** the point is, how could you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** noooooooo hiro I didn’t mean it

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** Hiro come back

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** you can blame it all on me

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** my spiky math wizard

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** my megabrain gadget leprechaun

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** fred seriously what is wrong with you

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** plucky imp genius

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** stop that

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** I can’t even tell if these are ironic nicknames or like

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** insults

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Yeah, I’m kind of stumped here.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** why do I hang out with you people

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** what

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** go, look at your username right now and then think about that question again

**Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **: …**

**Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** damn it

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** wait fred does that mean I can call YOU names that make no sense

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** but they aren’t insults exactly

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** like

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** celery stalk

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** hold up

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** snappy caffeine lemur

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Whoa.

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** skinny hazy bundle o’sticks

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** I had to set down my phone for a minute, and now I have no idea what’s happening!!!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** ive been here the whole time but honestly same

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lovable stoner gumbi

 **Fred_dead_Fredemption** **:** okay tIME OUT

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has changed Fred_dead_Fredemption’s name to ‘Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi’!**

**[]**

**Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** THAT IS AN UNFOUNDED ACCUSATION

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** damn hiro not bad

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** I only LOOK like I do lots of drugs

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** it’s a very specific image that I feel fits my personality and I like dressing this way

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** just to clarify

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** I don’t want you guys thinking I’m high like all the time

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** yeah and I’m not several mythical creatures, what’s your point

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** lol

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** wait, hiro, were you reading along this whole time? Before, I mean?

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** yeah p much

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** for the record I also think HL is a pure angel, and I totally nominate her for the hero role

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:**???

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** you know, in the screenplay

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** where fred is taking over the world come on hl we’ve been over this

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** actually, I don’t think she was here.

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** oh okay I’ll explain

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** so

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** it’s a screenplay where fred takes over the world

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** huh I guess that’s pretty much it

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Yeah, we haven’t gotten past the idea stage.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** The Hollywood dream is just that, unfortunately.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** One day, though.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** #oneday

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** wait i can’t use smileys but go can use hashtags?!?

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** yup exactly

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I think you just outlined a new rule, in fact. Couldn’t have put it better myself.

**[]**

**Hiro_Hamada has renamed the chat ‘Fred can’t use smileys but Go can use hashtags’!**

**[]**

**Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** this sucks

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** oh wait hiro I just noticed

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** whyd you change your name back

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** small tree boat was kinda growing on me

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** I dunno it just felt like it was time

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** I guess you could say

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** that ship has sailed

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** eyyyyyyyy

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** eyyyyyyyy

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** holy shit all is forgiven

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** my boy is following in my footsteps

 **Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi** **:** hiro im so proud

 **Hiro_Hamada** **:** footsteps my FOOT

**[]**

**Hiro_Hamada has changed Lovable_Stoner_Gumbi’s name to ‘Bad_at_Puns’!**

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Go, if I may, to take a leaf out of your book-

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** ‘Savage’.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** hiro you’re killing me

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** this is emotional whiplash

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** I can only take so much sudden but inevitable betrayal in one day

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** need I remind you I am the only one who actually worked to put puns in the nicknames

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** and you SCOFFED sir

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** even replacing my carefully crafted name with a dumb one that’s stupid and dumb

**[]**

**Hiro_Hamada has changed Hiro_Hamada’s name to ‘Small_Tree-Boat’**

**[]**

**Bad_at_Puns** **:** YOU JUST SAID

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** No I love it its mine back off

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** Why do you all hate me

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** where is the moment we needed the most

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** what

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** you kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** don’t you dare

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** god even seeing that, it’s stuck in my head already

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** THEY TELL ME YOUR BLUE SKIES FADE TO GRAY

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** im suddenly regretting a lot of life choices

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** why are any of us here?

 **Honey_badger_dgafHL** **:** what is this, really?

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** Oh guys this aint good

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** if HL is disillusioned then we’re done for

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** she was the best of us

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Honey Lemon, I have some bad news for you.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Your friends are idiots.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** And I include myself in that statement.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** YOU DIDN’T REALIZE BUT YOU JUST CALLED YOURSELF AN IDIOT, HAHA

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** oh

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** goddamnity

 **Bad_at_Puns** **: *** goddamnht

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** GODDAMNITY

 **Small_Tree-Boat** **:** EVERYBODY SHUT UP, I JUST LEARNED THE GREATEST CURSE WORD EVER

**[]**

**Small_Tree-Boat has changed Small_Tree-Boat’s name to ‘God_damnity’!**

**[]**

**God_damnity** **:** you guys I’m so happy right now you don’t even know

 **God_damnity** **:** this is perfect

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** I agree that’s a really funny name, but I think we should lighten up on Fred! this seems kind of mean.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** AT

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** LAST

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** im probably repeating myself but seriously hl

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** you are just

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** the best person

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** that’s besides the point!

 **God_damnity** **:** she doesn’t deny it tho

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I think you’re right, to be perfectly honest. It’s possible we took this too far.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Fred, I’m sorry we kept making fun of you, so continuously.

 **God_damnity** **:** lol im not

 **God_damnity** **:** guy’s creeping on my name and blocking me from conversations that’s some sketchy stuff

 **God_damnity** **:** well he didn’t actually block me but he was planning to and then forgot

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Fine, you’re exempt.

**Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **: …**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Go?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** fine, sorry fred

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** happy?

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** yes!! actually!! thank you for asking!!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** I was asking wasabi

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** UGH

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** YEAH WELL, SO WAS I

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** what?

 **God_damnity** **:** lol

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** The point is, no more making fun of Fred by changing the names and such.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** YES AGREED

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** I mean

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** thank you that’s very mature of you

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** same for honey

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** hiro and go go noT SO MUCH

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** hey wtf I apologized

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** right now im totally morally superior to Hamada at least

 **God_damnity** **:** eh, that’s fair

 **God_damnity** **:** in fact whoa that makes me the delinquent of the group hell yeah

 **God_damnity** **:** guys who wants to go and like

 **God_damnity** **:** graffiti some mailboxes

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** …Is that what you think teenage hoodlums do?

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** are you kidding that was like every weekend when I was his age

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** hmm what sort of mischief can I get up to

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** I know lets tag mailboxes yeah perfect

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** everyone will be so

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** slightly confused, when they go to get their mail

 **God_damnity** **:** guys I know it was a JOKE

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** hiro, I know you don’t like hearing this, but youre kind of adorable.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** please talk more about how badass and rebellious you are

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** it’s like a small puppy trying to be intimidating

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** or a gerbil

 **God_damnity** **:** what no ewgh

 **God_damnity** **:** I said it was a joke good lord

 **God_damnity** **:** how did this backfire so quickly

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** haha yes finally someone else is the target of the snide japery

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** the witty and verbose slinged insults

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** I was getting kinda sick of the Lets Roast Fred Variety Hour

**Whassup_Bae** **: …**

**Whassup_Bae** **:** Ah, I can’t do it. I’m not THAT heartless.

 **God_damnity** **:** pfft chicken

**[]**

**God_damnity has renamed the chat ‘Let’s Roast Fred Variety Hour’!**

**[]**

**God_damnity** **:** lol

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** lol

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** I still don’t get why this is so funny? he just changed the name!

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** oh my sweet sweet lord in heaven above

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** it’s like trying to keep wolves away from a campfire with a stick

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** even if you get them to step back, if you drop your guard for ONE SECOND

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** you people make me sick

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Alright, guys.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** For real, enough is enough.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** haha now there are TWO sticks

 **Bad_at_Puns** **: *** ppl holding sticks

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** and we can stand back to back while the camera pans around all cool like

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** you can’t get us now you stupid wolves

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae** **has renamed the chat ‘Let’s Roast Fred Variety Hour Part 2: The Revenge’!**

**[]**

**God_damnity** **:** oh my god why didn’t I think of that

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** GARETH TOBIAS WHITAKER

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** I TRUSTED YOU

 **God_damnity** **:** i would’ve gone with Roastin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo but this is pretty good I’ll admit

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I mean, you spelled ‘Whitaker’ right, so one out of three ain’t bad, I suppose.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** whered you get ‘tobias’?

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** And, for that matter, ‘Gareth’.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** no im not talking to any of you

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** im flipping off my phone screen right now fyi

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** just kinda imagine it, I guess

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** see, im pretty sure you mean you’re holding up the finger towards your phone? but my first thought with that phrasing, was that you’re doing a backflip off of your screen or something!

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** there’s an image

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Through the power of pure rage, Fred found a way not only to balance on top of his cell phone, but also to perform acrobatic feats he’d never dreamed. Truly inspiring.

 **God_damnity** **:** lol

 **God_damnity** **:** oh hey you know what would be fun

 **God_damnity** **:** we should try to figure out FRED’s middle name

 **God_damnity** **:** you guys wanna help me out on a sleuthing mission

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** sure

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** Yeah!!!

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** Absolutely.

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** SOM OF A BITHFCH

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** There it is.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** I knew if I waited long enough, it would come to me.

 **Whassup_Bae** **:** The white whale, if you will.

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** huh?

**[]**

**Whassup_Bae has changed Whassup_Bae’s name to ‘Som_of_a_Bithfch’!**

**[]**

**Som_of_a_Bithfch** **:** Magnificent **.**

 **God_damnity** **:** see, THAT was inspiring

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** def feeling the inspiration rn

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **: i** f its any consolation fred, I still don’t get why they think these names are funny!

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** ***CAUSE YOU HAD A BAD DAY***

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** oh no

 **God_damnity** **:** I thought he forgot about that!

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** ***YOU’RE TAKING ONE DOWN***

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch** **:** I think that’s it for me. It’s been fun.

 **Som_of_a_Bithfch** **:** Good night, everybody.

**[]**

**Som_of_a_Bithfch has left the chat!**

**[]**

**God_damnity** **:** quitter

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** yeah pretty disappointing, no lie

* * *

* * *

* * *

**Bad_at_Puns** **:** YOU SING A SAD SONG JUST TO TURN IT AROUND

* * *

* * *

* * *

**God_damnity** **:** oh my god

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** how did you even do that???

 **Sold_my_soul_for_memes** **:** changed my mind bye

**[]**

**Sold_my_soul_for_memes has left the chat!**

**[]**

**God_damnity** **:** and then there were three

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** actually, I should probably head to bed soon! It’s pretty late already

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** but it was fun talking with you guys! Id rather see you all in real life, but still!

 **God_damnity** **:** wait no don’t leave

 **God_damnity** **:** everyone’s deserting so quickly

 **God_damnity** **:** im picturing my texts echoing now

 **God_damnity** **:** even though it’s not a physical space weird how that works

 **God_damnity** **:** can text messages get lonely

 **God_damnity** **:** aw man now im just making myself sad

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** alright, Hamada, give me your best shot

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** one last jab before this complete train wreck of a conversation is over

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** bring it on im ready for anything

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** NOTHING YOU SAY CAN SHOCK ME NOW

 **God_damnity** **:** alright

 **God_damnity** **:** how bout

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** oh I almost forgot! Fred, im sorry everyone was ganging up on you so much, and even though I’m still not sure how this whole thing works, you’re a really fun person to be around and its super cool how you make everyone laugh and try to make people happy! I think that’s really special and we shouldn’t take advantage of it and I hope nobody went too far!

**God_damnity** **: …**

**Bad_at_Puns** **:** that

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** that’s probably

 **Bad_at_Puns** **:** the nicest thing I’ve ever heard

 **Honey_badger_dgaf** **:** oh, sorry, hiro, I interrupted you! You were about to say something?

 **God_damnity** **:** nope

 **God_damnity** **:** sure wasn’t

 **God_damnity** **:** um

 **God_damnity** **:** night guys

**[]**

**God_damnity has left the chat!**

**[]**


	11. -deleted scene, 1, short-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering posting more of these, for the rewrites and old scenes I haven't erased already. Obviously this doesn't replace the usual update- there'll be a real chapter on Monday.

* * *

(A faint _beep_ , and a screen that vanishes- and he’s back in the real world, blinking at his phone’s menu. And… feeling very out of place, for some reason.

The words ‘real’ and ‘fake’ don’t cut it, really, because he’s not thinking that way, exactly- but still, it somehow feels like… as soon as he stops talking with them, or as soon as he's by himself, something changes. He can stop. He can breathe a little easier, and he doesn’t have to keep pretending that-

...He can just stop.

So, the next logical question- if that's the case, why does he also feel so suddenly alone?

He ignores that particular wondering, setting his phone down on the counter in front of the garage’s computer. He was here last time they did the chat nonsense, too, wasn’t he? Huh. Idly, he thinks that he’s been spending an awful lot of time in here.

…

It’s worth it, though.

…

 _God._ He jerks into alertness, suddenly realizing that he momentarily dozed off- he hadn’t even noticed his eyes closing. Scowling, he rolls the chair forward and starts in on his work again.

He should have been doing this the whole time, honestly.)

* * *


	12. Halloween, 1

Halloween comes quickly.

Someone comes to school in a Yokai costume.

Hiro sees him in the morning, between classes, and within an hour the sophomore chem major has already been dragged to the dean’s office and even questioned by campus security. One of the chattier professors muses on the ‘incident’ during a lecture, which quickly brings up a class-wide debate on the ethics of using a known domestic terrorist as a party costume. A couple seniors joke about the whole thing, pretty casually. Go Go’s in the class with him, and he has to grab her elbow a few times to stop her from leaping up and throttling them.

Hiro knows she’s watching him, the whole time. Trying to see if he’s doing okay.

He’s not, obviously, but he doesn’t need to have the whole damn _school_ knowing that.

It’s a particularly weird day. The other students already treat Hiro with a strange combination of ‘Isn’t-that-the-genius-kid’ whisperings, cautious distance, ‘sorry-for-your-loss’ reverence, fondness for the brother of a school legend, and ‘outta the way, short stack’ holdover from high school. Today, though, it’s even stranger- it seems everyone hears about the costume within a single afternoon. Conversations die down to a whisper when he passes by. Furtive glances and lowered eyes seem to follow and not-follow him through the halls.

Callaghan’s arguably more famous than Tadashi, after all. The school’s reeling. And even if the student body doesn’t know how the skinny kid brushing shoulders with them in the hallway had a few robot-augmented fistfights with Yokai, they certainly know that Callaghan came out of that fire, and Tadashi didn’t.

“I’m not gonna say don’t worry about it,” Wasabi says when they finally get a chance to eat lunch in a quiet- well, relatively quiet- corner of the cafeteria. “But… I don’t know. I hope you can… not worry about it?”

“That guy’s a moron,” Go Go says flatly, stabbing a piece of popcorn chicken like it personally offended her. “I wouldn’t waste your thought on him. Who thinks something like that’s a good idea?”

“You see the news crew?” Fred asks in a hushed tone. “They came by the front office a little bit ago. I think they’re running a story on it.”

“You’re kidding,” Honey says. “That’s… why give him any more attention? That’ll just make things worse!”

Go Go shrugs. “Apparently, this is a pretty big deal. You guys check Facebook or anything today?” When she doesn’t get a response, she goes back to attacking the pieces of chicken on the Styrofoam plate. “Good. Don’t.”

“Hiro?” Honey says quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you doing okay?”

What do you know, the exact question he’s getting really sick of. “M’fine,” he mumbles, not looking away from his food. He hasn’t exactly eaten any of it, but still.

“Are you sure?” she says tentatively. “Because it’s totally alright if you’re-”

“I said I’m _fine_ ,” he snaps, and- and immediately regrets it. That was… yeah, that was too loud, and there’s no getting around it. Especially since the less-than-stellar way he acted in front of her last time. “Sorry,” he says preemptively, trying to ward off the awkward silence that’s definitely starting around the whole table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I…”

“It’s alright, little man,” Wasabi says. Then, he speaks a bit louder, getting the others’ attention. “Can we talk about something else? Thinking about that guy’s making me lose my appetite.”

“Same,” Hiro says, giving him a weak smile as he pushes his tray forward, to the middle of the table. “Go crazy, Fred.”

“Excuse me?” Fred has his serious face on, which is a clear sign that he’s trying to lighten the mood. It’s a weird dynamic, but Hiro’s started to recognize the signs. “Hiro Hamada, do you know how often the grill station does popcorn chicken on this campus? Not often, is the answer. Very not often. _Never_ often.”

“If he doesn’t want our school’s overdone, chewy excuse for real food, let him be,” Go Go says with a raised eyebrow.

“ _Oh._ ” Fred splays both hands out on the table, and Hiro relaxes a little, because they’re officially in the Fred-and-Friends Comedy Zone, now, and he has at least a small break from thinking about the costume. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were dealing with professional popcorn chicken critics over here. Do you send food back to the kitchen at restaurants, too? Would you refuse free money because the bills are rumpled and slightly torn? That’s called leading a gift horse to water, Go Go-” (There’s a slightly disappointed “ _so close_ ” from Wasabi’s direction) “-and if you can’t appreciate the finer things in life, then I truly pity you.”

Honey’s brow furrows in confusion. “So, you’re… not taking the chicken?”

“No, obviously I’m going to, but that’s not the point.”

“Also,” Go Go pipes up, “I’d like to point out the irony that Mansion Boy is calling popcorn chicken one of the ‘finer things in life’.”

He stares. “What irony?”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hiro snorts into his water bottle, and pretty soon the others are laughing, too. Fred has a wide-eyed look of innocence, repeatedly asking ‘What?’, and if he’s in on the joke, it becomes clear that he’s not going to admit it. “Whatever, losers,” he says a beat later. “Joke’s on you, because only one of us here has chicken, and spoiler alert, he’s not sharing.”

“I’m with Go Go,” Wasabi says. “It’s really not that good.”

“Mmf. That’sh jealoushy talking, my man.”

“Oh my God, Fred, close your mouth when you talk.”

The table goes silent for just a second, as Go Go realizes what she said. “That’s not what I meant,” she says quickly, but it’s too late- Fred’s already laughing through his food, and Honey is fiddling with her phone, probably having given up entirely on the conversation. “Fred, that is _not_ what I meant. Shut up. It’s not even that funny.”

“HM. HM MM HM? HM HMMM!” It takes Hiro a second to figure it out, but Fred’s actually talking with his mouth completely closed. Which is basically just humming. His cheeks are flared out like a chipmunk, and for some reason, the whole spectacle makes Wasabi laugh so hard he almost chokes, and-

…

Something hits him.

Not nostalgia, and not a memory. Hiro can’t figure out what it is, for a second, wistful and sad and… something else, something he can’t place, something that cuts through his friends’ laughter and jokes and the overall sense that _this is a happy moment-_

Wait. That’s it.

This is… normal.

His friends are here. He’s happy. He’s living his life. And the pang of surprise returns, because he- he hasn’t had this, before. Certainly not in high school. And really, he’s only ever been close with Tadashi. After the fire, he… sort of thought that was gone for good.

“Hey.” Honey nudges his shoulder again. “Everything alright?”

He has to smile, because she’s willing to see how he’s doing not two minutes after he snapped at her for asking the same question. Fred and Go Go have already spiraled into another argument, so the attention isn’t solely on him this time, and he shrugs. “It’s just weird,” he says; and he can’t put the whole feeling into words, so he only goes for part of it. “Us. Being here. Like… everything’s normal, you know?”

Normal, even after the fire. But he suddenly thinks of another meaning, and quickly jumps at the chance. “I mean, we’ve jumped off of buildings, you know?” He lifts one shoulder, lowering his voice and grinning slightly. “We’re superheroes.”

It lands during a lull in the others’ talking, so there’s no way the entire table doesn’t hear it. His face starts to go red, and Honey cuts in, probably trying to save any embarrassment. “Yeah,” she says brightly. “A few weeks ago, we were trying to track down criminals, and last night, I was panicking about having a test fourth period.”

“Less ‘saving the world’, more ‘debating the merits of popcorn chicken’,” Wasabi says with a sigh.

“Eh, it was never really the whole world,” Fred says. “More like-”

_“-mistake!”_

_-they’re in danger-_

_“-it, Baymax!-”_

_-his hand, flinging out-_

_“-wanted-“_

The thoughts come out of nowhere, heavy and dark and slicing through everything else. Hiro realizes he’s gripping the table in front of him so hard that his knuckles are white.

“-just the one city. Or… really, pretty much just that one building? Krei’s new summer home or whatever?” Fred leans back in his chair. “We basically waged a grand battle over, like, two blocks.”

…Where on earth did _that_ feeling come from?

“Well, we’ll get back to it. Right?” Wasabi hesitantly glances over to Hiro. “This was never just a one-time thing, yeah?”

It suddenly seems like they’re all waiting for him to say something. Hiro tries to avoid the sensation of a spotlight on a stage. “No, for sure,” he says in a rush. “I mean- it’s just that, I don’t think, without Baymax, the- I’m not- just-” He closes his eyes, and _knows_ his face is going red again. “I can’t do it without him,” he finally says.

“No, of course!” Wasabi says. “I just meant, once he’s back. Once you’re finished.”

For some reason, that last phrase hits him like a punch to the gut. _Once you’re finished._ Because he’s tried to tone down the excitement from the first day, tried to make it clear that this will probably take a lot longer than he thought, but… it’s still hard not to feel like he’s letting them down every day Baymax isn’t here. Like he’s letting _everyone_ down.

The next logical question is, ‘How’s that work coming along?’ He can almost hear the words.

None of them ask it.

They probably feel like they shouldn’t, or can’t, and that- that makes him feel even _worse_ , because it’s taking so long, and he doesn’t know how to talk about it. He doesn’t know how to explain, or if he should apologize, or…

“Oh, guys. Guys. Guys guys _guys.”_

Fred suddenly slams his hands down on the table, shocking Hiro out of his thoughts. “ _GuysIforgottotellyouabouttheparty_ ,” he says so quickly that it mostly sounds like gibberish.

“Huh? Nah, you told us, like, weeks ago,” Wasabi says with eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, but like, I didn’t _tell_ you about it,” Fred says in a rush. “The new stuff. It’s gonna be so sick. Can you guess how many different kinds of booze will be at this party? No, don’t guess, actually. It’s a surprise. Oh man oh man I’m so excited _you guys don’t even know.”_

The chattering continues, detailing exactly how much snack food will be available, and exactly how long it took Heathcliff to deck out the mansion’s basement with working neon lights and rig up a sound system for the DJ he’s renting for the night. And in the middle of the excited details- _Fred, why do you need a DJ and also a karaoke machine at the same party-_ Hiro realizes he completely forgot about this. Fred mentioned it, probably, earlier in the month, but it never really registered.

Huh. He hadn’t seriously considered it- for several reasons- but doesn’t exactly have any other plans…

“A karaoke machine doesn’t need a reason, HL,” Fred says earnestly. “It _is_ the reason.”

“Reason for what?”

“Exactly.” He pointedly ignores her confusion over the answer, and points at each of them in turn. “You’re all coming, right? Right. And costumes are a necessity. Costumes are mandatory. I will straight-up kick you out of my house if you’re not wearing a costume.”

“Um, I don’t-” Hiro says.

“Way to loudly announce how much alcohol will be at the party, then invite a minor, Einstein,” Go Go says.

“Oh, dude, that’s no problem if he doesn’t drink any! And don’t worry, bud-” He turns to Hiro with a grin. “My man H makes a punch out of like ten different sodas and an obscene amount of ice cream, and it is _dope._ ” He pauses. “I, uh, realize ‘dope’ isn’t the best choice of words, given the topic, but I stand by it.”

“Whoa, Fred.” Looking alarmed, Honey Lemon leans forward and puts her hands on the table. “Look, I’m not a stickler for rules, but- he’s _fourteen._ Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

Go Go shrugs. “I mean, high schoolers go to parties. High schoolers drink. Hell, he’s _past_ high school.”

“Guys-”

Honey Lemon reaches over to smack Go Go’s elbow with a scowl, but Wasabi interrupts. “And if you think about it, Hiro’s probably the most mature fourteen-year-old in the state. He’s fine.” It's absolutely impossible to tell if he and Go are joking or not.

“Guys!”

“I’m not saying he can’t handle himself, but I don’t want anyone to get arrested,” Honey says angrily.

“Oh, gotcha.” Fred nods sagely, and gives Hiro a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll come visit you in prison.”

“Fred, I was talking about _you!”_ she blurts out. “Do you know how much trouble you can get in for serving alcohol to-”

“Nobody’s _serving_ anything, it’s just-”

“STOP it!”

It happened again.

He hears it as soon as the words are out- something in the tone of his own voice, something harsh and explosive and way too angry. Honey flinches, and Go Go raises her eyebrows, and Fred even stops talking completely; Hiro can tell that Awkward Silence Round Two is starting up, so he tries to cut it off as fast as he can. “I just- don’t want to,” he says weakly. “Not, uh, really in the mood. You know.”

“What? _What?_ Hiro, my man! My bro! Buddy! My tiny science elf! You can’t just- _oof-”_ Fred abruptly runs out of breath, and Hiro guesses that what Honey meant to be a gentle, chiding elbow nudge ended up being a pretty substantial jab to the stomach. She glares at him, with a really not-subtle nod of her head in Hiro’s direction, and… yeah, they’re doing the ‘don’t talk about it’ deal again. Hiro hates it when they try to do that; like they’re trying to protect him by not mentioning certain things.

“It’s okay,” he says, and suddenly he wants to hurry up and get it out in the open. “Yeah, I got freaked out by the costume. And… that’s pretty much the reason I don’t want to go.” He spreads his arms out, in a sarcastically grand gesture. “There it is.”

Honey looks a little startled, and Wasabi seems surprised as well. Go Go just shrugs. “Fair enough. You don’t want to, you don’t have to.” She puts her elbows on the table, one hand propping up her chin. “And Fred, do you really want to do this in the first place?”

“Huh?” Wincing slightly, he huffs. “Whaddya mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just, your place is nice. Like, really nice.” Go Go pauses, probably trying to let the words sink in. “Sure you want a bunch of drunk college kids to trash it?”

“What, cleaning? No problem.” Fred casually grabs some fries off Honey’s plate. “Believe me, Heathcliff will be glad for the distraction. You can only… I dunno, dust the mantleplace so many times.”

“Huh. Somehow, I doubt your housekeeper will appreciate a hundred wasted rabble-rousers trashing his estate.”

“Also, ‘mantleplace’ isn’t a word,” Wasabi adds.

“What? Yes it is. It’s like, the…” Fred makes a vague waving motion. “The little shelf thing! Over the fireplace!”

“Yeah, that’s just a mantle. That’s what it’s called.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

Hiro leans back in his chair, grateful that the conversation has pulled away from him again. Until Honey lowers her voice and whispers, “Sorry about all that.”

“Huh?” He turns his head slightly. “About… what?”

She looks down at her hands. “The whole thing, I guess.”

He’s not sure what she means- honestly, he’s not even sure what he himself is mad about- but he shoves the feeling down, and lifts his shoulders with another attempt at a smile. “It’s fine,” he says. “You guys can snap me the highlights.”

“Will do,” she says, and turns back to the others, while the conversation fades to gray around him, and he ignores the prickling sensation that he’s pulling away from them- it’s just a dumb party, he reminds himself, and it doesn’t matter that all four of them look a lot happier than he’s felt in weeks. Even when Go Go repeatedly asks Fred what time people will be arriving, and Fred holds strong in pretending he didn’t hear her, leading her to get more and more frustrated- _God, Go Go, I can’t understand you when you TALK WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN LIKE THAT-_ he still can’t muster up more than a halfhearted laugh. And it’s just _dim_ , somehow, the cafeteria lights and Fred ruffling his hair before they split up and the voice of his physics professor droning on, later, and suddenly two periods have gone by and he barely remembers doing anything. Okay, he might have briefly fallen asleep in the lecture after lunch, but hey, to hear Fred tell it, that’s practically tradition for college students. He pointedly ignores his brain’s reminder that Fred is not, in fact, a college student- and even if he was, he probably wouldn’t be the best example to follow.

The point is, it’s not a big deal. It’s not the end of the world if he can’t remember what Doctor Matthias asked them to have ready for Monday, or if Wasabi has to call his name four or five times before he snaps his head up and sees that they’re in the lab, or if… he doesn’t actually remember, for a second, why he’s there. Because he blinks, and looks at the computer in front of him, and sees that he’s doing more research; he has three different articles tabbed in the search engine on the screen. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“-probably a good plan, anyway. I mean, the idea of Fred setting up any kind of gathering pretty much gives me hives to begin with, but a party?” Wasabi shakes his head, and Hiro tries his best to focus in on what he’s saying. “The possibilities are… endless. And terrifying.”

“I should tell him you said that,” Hiro responds, tearing his eyes away from the computer.

“Yeah? He’d probably take it as a compliment.” Wasabi hefts his backpack, hesitating near the doorway. “Anyway, I’ll… well, everyone’s pretty busy this weekend, so I guess I’ll probably see you Monday?”

He doesn’t sound like he usually does. And maybe it’s because Hiro’s worrying over nothing, or because… because he doesn’t…

That thought comes back. _Knowing_ people.

…It’s only been a few weeks.

He blinks again. “Right. See ya.”

Once Wasabi leaves, the lab is… not quiet, because Hiro can still hear the chatter of conversation as the majority of students, barring any evening classes, all start the exodus off of campus. But it’s still. A guy and a girl in the back corner are gathering up some notes, but they take off before long, and he’s by himself again.

And that’s fine. It’s _absolutely_ fine, he tells himself, because he should be working anyway. He has the articles in front of him, and he’s not even halfway through notating the second one; and after that, he still has to sort through the relevant information and figure out exactly how it applies to the coding on Baymax’s chip. And concurrently with that little project, he still has to find a way of asking the professors in the Robotics department for more info, without making it clear that he’s trying to restore a highly advanced medical database in a plush, blinking, vaguely confused body.

There’s so much work to do.

And he’s… across the room, near the exit to the hallway. Hiro pauses, and frowns. He… stood up, obviously, and walked over here. To leave? To go to the bathroom. Right. That’s all.

Things have been feeling kinda disjointed, recently. Bits and specks of time, and suddenly he’s somewhere else, without a concrete memory of what moved in between. He winces, because he can just _hear_ Ba-

He can hear T-

…

-he can just _hear_ Wasabi telling him that he needs to get more sleep. All this busy work, combined with his hectic school schedule and tendency to stay up far too late, can’t be good for him. But he shrugs it off, as he’s coming back from the bathroom. _Everyone_ is busy, here. No student is getting the perfect, doctor-recommended eight-to-ten hours or whatever. It’s alright.

Hiro stares at the computer screen again.

He’s so tired.

…

He could just go home. Try to get more done with his garage setup. Or just crash, and hope tomorrow’s better. Of course, that would mean another round of awkward-silence-bingo with Aunt Cass, who’s been acting _really_ weird lately- half the time she’s treating him like he’s fragile or something, tiptoeing around as if she’s afraid to say the wrong thing. And the other half, she’s grilling him with questions about being _okay_ and constantly going on about how he’s not getting enough sleep and everything. He’s really sick of it.

He remembers looking at his phone, considering texting one of the others to ask if they’re still at the party. He remembers noticing that the battery’s almost gone. He definitely remembers feeling tense, and antsy, and impulsive, and exhausted, because the work is going so, so slowly-

-and he looks over to the screen again, and the endless paragraphs of research that don’t even seem to be _helping_ …

He knows where the mansion is. And the trams are always running.

Oh, and the other thing he very definitely remembers: thinking to himself that he’s never gone to the mansion without Baymax before.

Hiro does _not_ remember walking to the tram stop. He remembers the wait, and the anxious feeling in his stomach when the approaching noise slowed to a stop. Tapping his foot to a tinny techno-pop song blaring through the speakers overhead, bumping his backpack against the floor while the lights slipped past the long windows and the whole cart sped down the rails. He doesn’t really remember getting off, and walking the last few streets towards his destination.

Disconnected, random spots of time, sort of blurring together. He’s not sure if he should be worried about that. But once again, he shoulders the thought aside, and stops when he rounds the last corner.

So.

Here he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween chapter was originally one giant update, but I'm splitting it into three since it's so long. Instead of waiting multiple weeks, I'm putting up part 2 tomorrow, and part 3 the day after as bonus updates. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading.


	13. Halloween, 2

Part of him was hoping it wouldn’t be as big and crazy as they joked about at lunch. After all, Hiro figured, he’s the school mascot- he can’t be _that_ popular, right? Doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘cool guy’ type to know everyone in the school.

But lo and behold, when he makes his way from the tram stop to the avenue with the lights of the mansion glittering off the cars in the street… the many, _many_ cars… he swallows, and realizes that there could be a hundred or more people here. Maybe that’s not even that many, for a party like this? He doesn’t know. This whole situation is pretty new.

That last thought only makes him feel more nervous and sick, so he tries to ignore it as he finally scales the steps and opens the front door. Heathcliff must be busy somewhere else-

Oh. Wow.

 _That’s… dedication,_ Hiro thinks.

First of all, the grand foyer is darker than he remembers. The only light is a gigantic, Gothic-looking, straight-out-of-a-horror-movie chandelier that seems to slowly turn, so the shadows are always shifting around the room; Hiro’s pretty sure this room didn’t even _have_ a chandelier, last time.

Lightning flashes at the exact same time a rumble of thunder echoes around the room, and Hiro flinches before he realizes it’s a clear night outside, and Fred actually, honestly rigged up a fake storm machine somewhere in this room. There’s a goofy, grinning skeleton dangling a few yards ahead of him- probably dropped when the first people showed up, he guesses. Cautiously stepping around it, he’s able to hear the faint pounding of a deep bassline, so at least there’s music playing somewhere.

“Master Hiro.” Okay, _that_ was actually scary. Hiro nearly jumps, but forces himself to calmly turn around- and then tries his hardest not to laugh, because Heathcliff is wearing the exact same impeccable suit as always, with a cardboard-cutout Frankenstein’s-monster-mask barely hiding his face. There are big holes around the eyes. It truly looks like Fred got it from a cereal box. “I have been asked to inform you… Boo.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Still a bit startled, Hiro rubs the back of his neck. “So, uh… where is everybody?”

“Most of Frederick’s guests have taken up residence in the den,” he says, nodding towards the main hallway. “There are refreshments in the kitchen, of course, but those of the… alcoholic variety have already been moved as close to the ‘dance floor’ as possible. His instructions were very clear.”

“Yeah?”

“Indeed. I believe he said,” Heathcliff pauses and coughs, before straightening with as much dignity as he can muster. “That he ‘needed the booze with the jammin’ tunes’.”

Seeing Heathcliff’s deadpan expression is so surreal, Hiro can’t even bring himself to laugh. “Right,” he says eventually. “And you’re- you’re cool with all this?”

The eyes blinked behind the monster mask. “I have been assured that both Master Frederick, and those he personally invited into this household, will be on their best behavior.”

“Huh.” Hiro looks to the hallway again, listening as the bass changes to a new song. He still can’t hear anything else. “You believe him?”

“Not in the slightest,” Heathcliff says bluntly. “I’m obliged to tell you to refrain from any alcoholic beverages, but otherwise- enjoy the party, Hiro.” With a bow, and what sounds like a resigned sigh, he disappears back toward the rest of the house. _Probably to ‘scare’ more guests,_ Hiro thinks bemusedly. He’ll definitely have to give Fred some grief about that “jammin’ tunes” line, later.

He gets more used to the house’s ambiance as he makes his way through- more than one hallway has rubber spiders that drop from the ceiling, and Hiro’s less scared than curious about how they’re pulled back up each time. When he finally gets to the kitchen, and shoulders past a couple dozen people who don’t spare him a glance, there’s some kind of swamp-monster-thing that looks like it’s crawling out of the sink; where, exactly, is Fred getting all these realistic-looking decorations? Or maybe Heathcliff just takes care of it all. Who knows. Hiro shakes his head, batting away the ghostlike hand that jumps out of the toaster when he reaches for the bowl of candy on the counter.

Of course, when he actually tries to _open_ a pack of gummi bears, he gets a facefull of tiny foam snakes bursting out instead. Okay, Fred got him with that one.

He jams a few real, actual candy bars in his pocket, and tries some of the punch- which is, admittedly, pretty delicious. The still-rumbling bass from below is at a muted roar, and the people around him are engrossed in conversation, groups of two and three and four, standing around and drinking and laughing and… whatever. They all blur together, somewhat. He can’t really bring himself to care. A few classic monsters, a lot of outfits that are just- just regular job uniforms, but ‘sexy’? Real original. Some he just doesn’t recognize at all. Celebrities maybe? It’s impossible to tell.

Huh. Happy Halloween.

…For some reason, Hiro suddenly feels like kind of an idiot.

Why’d he come here, exactly? To prove something? This is supposed to be… normal, right? Just what teenagers do? And he’s never been a part of this scene, but he’s not- he’s not trying to-

…He doesn’t know why he’s here.

He scowls down at the drink, thinking back to where he last left the research. A jumble of hypotheses and contradictions fills his brain, and he can’t stop worrying about the last major problem he’s run into, with a particularly complicated bit of the code in the chip. It’s just such a _mess._ And he’s not moving forward- at least, it feels like he’s not.

But hey, maybe he can at least find the others, here. Of course, to do that, he’ll have to head to the den. Heh. Literally face the music. He’s not sure why he doesn’t want to.

…You know what? Screw it.

Maybe it’s a little cliché to take a swig of his drink and slam it down on the counter, but whatever.

The music only gets louder the closer he gets to the den- in fact, he’s heard this one before. Tadashi used to- the café played this over the speakers, sometimes. Simple, loud, with a pretty annoyingly catchy chorus that repeats a million times. He doesn’t really love it.

But he’s never heard it like this.

Whatever sound system Fred has hooked up, it must be top-friggin’-dollar, because he can _feel_ every beat shaking the house. And it only gets worse, the closer he gets. He turns a corner, and the hallway opposite is, um, occupied.

He spins on his heel and tries a different route, before the two matching prince-and-princess costumes have a chance to stop making out and notice him.

It should _not_ be this difficult to find his way. His face burns, and not just because of the awkward display he walked in on. He’s been here before, so he really should know how to get around, but… it’s so different like this. The rooms and halls alternate between dim and blinding, and the thumping music doesn’t help his coordination at all. In fact, he’s… starting to feel kind of sick.

Not nauseous, but sort of pained. More tired than usual. He keeps forward, until he finally gets to the bottom of yet another stairway, and a landing, and another doorway, and-

…

 _Fred,_ he thinks, _you’ve gotta be kidding me._

He’s found the party, alright. Once his eyes adjust to the rapidly flashing lights, he can see the rhythmic forms of people dancing, crowded so close together that he can’t tell how far back the den even goes. A few partygoers are off to the side, at one of the tables with all the drinks, but the vast majority are bouncing on their feet and swaying with the pulsing bass of some hit song he’s vaguely heard over the radio. True to his word, Fred got nearly everyone to commit to the Halloween theme- Hiro can see a vampire dancing with… honestly, that person is barely even wearing _clothing_ , let alone a costume- until a wizard hat blocks his view and a couple of giggling, stumbling… aliens, maybe? They have those weird antenna-headbands, at least… nearly crash into him as they try to stagger away from the group.

Hah. He actually forgot about the costume thing.

(And maybe he flinches once or twice when a mask covers a face completely, or a mask looks his way with blank eyes- but it’s Halloween, for crying out loud. It’s fine.)

He dips out of the way, leaning against the wall to take a better look at the room. There’s a DJ near the far wall near the giant speakers, another table with drinks, and a hallway leading to… actually, considering the scantily-clad ‘nurse’ and ‘cowboy’ who disappear in that direction, already fumbling with each other’s clothes, Hiro really doesn’t want to know where that hallway leads. He grimaces, trying not to think about it too much. Apparently mansions are the place to be, when it comes to… yeah.

That’s when he notices the colors. He saw them when he stepped into the den, an explosion of greens and blues and reds all blurring together, a strobelight on the ceiling and flashing beams across the room and glowsticks _everywhere_. There’s a moment where he’s sickeningly reminded of technicolor clouds, blurring and melting together in a frozen vortex that never stops moving- but it passes, and he soon realizes what the colors are, specifically.

Red, purple, hot pink, bright yellow, and a nearly-turquoise sort of green. And of course, some of the lights have speckled combinations of orange and blue.

To the crowds, it might just look like Fred’s going for a wild neon rainbow look, but there’s no doubt- those are their colors. Their hero colors.

…Fred is absolutely crazy.

In fact, Hiro’s just about to track him down and chew him out for potentially giving away their secret; then, he stops. The glowsticks, the music, the ranging-from-tipsy-to-plastered crowd dancing in the center of the room- it all starts to blend together. And Hiro thinks back to how tired he’s been, how much work he’s done, how strained things are with Aunt Cass, how frustrating the research has been, how _draining_ the university work has become, how he feels tense and angry no matter how much he tries not to.

He’s pretty sure he can feel the sugar buzz from the drink, too.

A deep breath. He narrows his eyes, and thinks again:

_Screw it._

He slips in just before the bass drop- he doesn’t really know how to dance, but who cares? It’s practically impossible to see anyone anyway. It’s surprising how quickly he gets in a rhythm, with the pounding bass giving a steady line to follow. It’s probably ridiculous, objectively, the way he moves his arms and feet, but he doesn’t bother looking at anyone else. He’d probably lose his nerve if he did. Instead, he just keeps going, pretending he’s confident about this. Just like everything else. The thought crosses his mind again, that he’s getting awfully good at pretending lately.

It’s almost better that he doesn’t recognize anyone, so far. He stops looking at the faces at all, focusing on the song and how it feels to just _move._ The whole thing about exercising to relieve stress, and _movement_ somehow helping with what’s going on in your mind- it never made much sense to him. But, somehow, this is alright. It feels good. And the people around him seem caught up in it, too; nobody’s wasting time with talking, or working through complicated problems, or worrying about anything. No one’s even looking at him.

…Yeah. Finally, _nobody_ is looking at him.

Right now, here, in this moment, he doesn’t have to _do_ something. So he lets himself stop thinking about everything except when the next drop is coming, and just before it lands, it’s a feeling he recognizes. The buzz, the slight shaking across his arms and in his head and full of energy- it’s not just the sugar. It feels like… flying.

He’s flying. It stops him for a second, only a second, because the drop is coming back- and it’s loud. Really loud. And when he bobs his head down on the beat- the song’s not anywhere close to metal, but everyone’s still kinda acting like a mosh pit anyway- it makes him kind of dizzy, and his head aches a bit, but it’s worth it. He doesn’t know why, but it _feels_ worth it.

The song ends. There’s cheering. Nobody’s looking Hiro’s way- other than one or two people who maybe notice _hey, why’s some short dude here?_ But they don’t seem to care.

It’s… kind of nice.

The next track starts up. Somebody’s handed him a glowstick. He blinks at it for a second- it’s already lit up in a strange shade of purple, looking almost like a blacklight.

More and more people recognize the song, and start dancing again. He’s not sure why, but he connects the glowstick in a ring and sets it in his hair like a headband.

So now, of course, there’s a strange, otherworldly, dark kind of light wherever he turns, making the whole scene even more unreal. Perfect. He grins when the DJ starts a countdown or something- probably another drop. These songs are too predictable, but- looking around at how excited everyone is, at how they’re just relaxing, enjoying their lives, having a good time- maybe that’s the point.

Sure enough, the music’s building and building. He’s never wanted to do the whole ‘headbang’ thing, before, but for some reason, it suddenly seems like it might be fun. He can tell everyone’s ready.

“Three…”

There are people behind him, too, jostling and bumping as the crowd moves. He staggers, but gets his balance again, so it’s fine.

“Two…”

The electric sound is getting louder, and the bass is going to _hurt_ , he’s sure of it. But it’s fine. He’s fine. Somebody spills a drink a few people in front of him.

“One…”

Here it comes. He laughs out loud, because he can feel the energy of the song in his bones, excited and alive and burning. The lights at the end of the room are starting to really spaz out now, flashing on and off so quickly the whole room looks like it’s frozen in time, like the pages of a flipbook. It hurts his eyes. But he’s fine. He feels _good._

Then-

“FIRE.”

What?

The voice on the track is deep and growling, just an instant later than he expected the bass drop- and then _finally_ it hits, but it’s with the sound of a gunshot. Literally, recorded into the track. And it’s _loud._

That’s when the dancers around him feel the beat, and start raving in earnest; almost immediately, somebody’s elbow collides with his shoulder, and he can’t see anything except glowsticks on arms, glowsticks wrapped around bottles, glowsticks hanging like necklaces. Lights everywhere, but he can’t see.

The music is so loud.

He blinks, and something hits his back- and he’s on the ground, on one knee, suddenly, but he doesn’t remember falling. The floor’s shaking with the beat. His ears hurt. His vision is… no, that’s just the strobe light, isn’t it? Or is he seeing spots?

He dimly wonders if he’s about to get trampled. Raves aren’t supposed to get this crazy indoors… right? He suddenly notices his back is wet. His _shirt_ is wet. Booze has a pretty distinct smell, and- when someone knocked him over, they must have dropped their drink, too, because cheap beer is soaking through his shirt right now.

Scrambling, ears ringing, he tries to stand up as quickly as he can, before making his way past the people around him. They’re all tall, all moving and dancing and twisting so he can hardly figure out where he’s going, but he doesn’t get shoved again, and soon he’s… nearly out of the group, for sure. He has to be. And he’s going the right way, right? If the DJ’s over there, then…

He can’t pinpoint where the music’s coming from. The speakers were on _that_ side of the room, he’s pretty sure, so… God, they’re so _loud_ that he can’t concentrate on getting away from any of them. And the vicious, hammerlike beat keeps going and going, with the occasional autotuned voice-

_It’s just a dumb song, with a dumb hook that’s supposed to sound like fighting in a battle or something, it’s not a big deal, it’s fine-_

“FIRE.”

He flinches when the gunshot rings out again. God, how can the lights be so disorienting when it’s this dark? So dark that he can’t even find his way out of- wait, didn’t he start here? Where’s the entrance to the den? He finds the wall, but he’s still almost squished with how many people are here, and he barely stops before crashing straight into someone else.

He can’t get out.

It’s a stupid thought, stupid and ridiculous, and he _knows_ he’s overreacting, because no one else is having a problem here- no one else is freaking out- and he’s _not_ , he’s fine, he’s going to be fine, all he has to do is step away for a second-

He’s just tired, that’s all-

And he can’t see anything but masks, but that’s fine, it’s Halloween _,_ he’s not panicking, it’s not- it’s not that mask-

_It’s dark, but everything’s moving, so fast so loud like millions of specks of black rushing over, chattering, building, pinning him in place, trapped, can’t get out, no way out, it’s too dangerous, he shouldn’t have gone after him alone, he’s going to die-_

_And Baymax isn’t here-_

“Hiro! Hey, H-”

Something grabs his shoulder.

_Black glove black hand black coat black machines white mask-_

He’s too stunned to yell, but he turns, and his arm moves in a panic, and shoves forward.

Somebody in a bulky costume topples back, clearly shocked, and trips when he bumps the person behind him; he’s got a blue and an orange glowstick, one around each wrist. The orange one falls off when the guy stumbles, finally losing his balance completely, forced into an awkward turn before he hits the ground. He can’t avoid falling facedown, and he doesn’t really have time to stop himself with his arms.

The music doesn’t pause. Only a few people around them even notice. Even so, the image is frozen in Hiro’s mind, and he knows right away that he won’t be able to forget it.

Fred groans, and sits up as best he can. Hiro can’t really see him that well, but then the lights flash again, and he gets a glance of the pained grimace on his friend’s face. And- another frozen moment of light, and he can see two things with perfect clarity.

One, Fred is wearing a knock-off version of his _own superhero costume,_ with haphazard flames drawn onto a cardboard blue monster. Because secret identities are, apparently, overrated. It almost gets him to drop his jaw in disbelief.

Two, his- his nose is bleeding. Fred’s nose is bleeding.

Hiro can’t move. He doesn’t feel like he can breathe.

Fred blinks, and-

-and an _instant_ , a single moment, disappearing as soon as it comes, Hiro sees-

-but then Fred grins, even chuckles, yells something Hiro can’t hear over the pounding music. So he gets up, and rubs at his face, accidentally smearing some of the blood onto his cheek. “Yo, Hiro!” he says brightly. “Didn’t think you were coming, man!”

“I, uh-” His throat is burning. The ringing in his ears isn’t even real, it’s just a thought, but it’s somehow so loud he can’t think. Nothing filters through his brain except the sense that he _has to get out of here._

“Now, I don’t mean to be a stickler for rules-” Fred crosses his arms, with a smug look like the last thirty seconds never happened. “But I believe I was _very clear_ about a costume, sir. You’re hurting me, Hiro. You wound me.”

It’s a joke. It’s just a joke. Ha ha, no problem, it’s fine, whatever, it’s just a _joke._ Nobody’s staring at him, Fred’s not even angry, so why does he feel like-

“Bro, are you okay?” Fred steps closer, and his eyebrows raise in concern.

He blinks, and tries his best to break through the shock. “Y-yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I- I’m really sorry.”

“What, that?” Fred grins again. “Dude, I’ve been knocked over like three times tonight. Is this your first ever party, or what?”

_Laugh, and shrug it off, because it’s fine, he’s fine, I’m fine-_

Something grips him, twisting in his chest, panicked and urgent; Hiro opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out, and he’s moving, away, backward, trying to slip past the people around him, all of them still moving, dancing, swarming-

Fred’s calling out, but he can’t hear the words. And he can’t bring himself to look back and- and see the blood.

“FIRE.”

He throws his hands over his ears, he doesn’t know why, but it’s too late; he already hears the gunshot.

_Like the first ear-shattering instant of an explosion-_

He’s gasping, struggling for air, and if he doesn’t get out of this crowd- doesn’t stop running into people, arms and bodies and lights and that _music_ , everywhere, loud, pushing, crushing- he doesn’t know what will happen.

Fred’s yelling his name. He doesn’t turn around. Some part of his brain knows he’s hyperventilating, but he- tries- to- push- it- away-

_It’s-_

_Fine-_

His foot collides with something, and he topples forward. There’s a horrifying moment where he’s afraid he’ll collapse to the ground completely, and get even more lost in the crowd.

Instead, he awkwardly falls on carpeted steps.

Hiro lies there for a second, struggling to get his breath back under control, and finally realizes he’s out of the den. Behind him, the party’s going strong, but the music is the faintest bit quieter, and he feels like he can _hear_ again. His hands are shaking against the fibers of the carpet.

Next to him, someone holding a red cup giggles to herself, and casually strolls up the stairs. Just… taking a break from the dancing. No big deal.

He’s so _stupid._

It floods him, a frustrated, berated feeling that he can’t stop and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t _want_ to stop. This is completely ridiculous. He’s- he isn’t some panicked kid, losing his mind over everything that happened. He’s moving on. He’s… doing things right. He has his friends, and his school, and the work on Baymax. He’s fine.

But that thought falls short, too, when he realizes he can’t stand up yet.

It takes him a few minutes, and he only has to tell two or three partygoers- drunk, _very_ confused to see a teenager crouched over at the base of the steps, yet still concerned- that he’s alright, he’ll get to his feet by himself; but eventually, he’s making his way up the stairway. The suffocating music and the flickering lights fade until he doesn’t have to think about either of them. He’s moving, at least, slowly making his way back through the mansion- he passes students that pay no attention to him, and he barely registers them, in kind- and he’s sure he’s getting closer to the main foyer, because from there he’ll be able to leave, and get home, and- and do _something_ , sleep maybe, or maybe he should… hell, just head back to campus and sneak back into the lab and keep working.

Sure. Great idea. It’s not like he’s so exhausted he can barely think straight.

And that moment keeps replaying, over and over. He can see Fred's face so clearly, but it's _not_ just his face, it's looking more like-

With a start, Hiro realizes he doesn’t recognize this room. In fact, he… might be farther from the entrance than when he started. This corridor/dining hall/whatever it is rich people call a _room_ is gigantic, a rectangle shape that stretches so far in front of him he’s not sure he can clearly see the other side; tall floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto the street in front of the mansion, and the light they let in is the only thing keeping this area from pitch darkness.

There’s nothing here. A long, flat, empty floor. He growls, and starts towards the opposite end of the room, because if the windows face _that_ way, then at least he knows he’s getting… closer. Probably.

Hiro stops halfway. The creaking of the door behind him sounds like- reminds him of-

- _have to run have to get away he’s coming he’s chasing us he’ll kill us-_

It doesn’t make him jump, this time, and he simply closes his eyes and tries to breathe, waiting for the irrational panic to stop clogging his throat and curling up his fingers. It’s nothing. He’s good. There’s nothing to worry about.

But he can’t stop thinking about it- the moment- Fred was on the ground, knocked down, and he looked up to see Hiro, and- and just for a second- he was so stunned, so hurt, and _you did this-_ and Hiro was standing above him, looking down, like- just like-

“Hey.”

Hiro forces himself to turn around quietly, as close to calm as he can get, and for a moment, he can’t see who’s standing there. But then Go Go steps closer, and phases through one of the patches of dim light from the windows. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

He blinks. On second thought, he’s not… totally sure this is Go Go. Earlier today, she was wearing her usual jacket-shorts combo; now, she’s got a crazy oversized white dress speckled with fake blood, that hangs off her arms like tattered cobwebs. There’s even one of those headdress-veil things bunched up behind her head, and- and he’s pretty sure she’s not wearing shoes. She must have some kind of pale makeup, too, and if he squints he can see dark circles under her eyes. “Yeah,” he stutters, and his voice chooses the worst moment to break, making him sound even more pathetic. “Yeah, I’m- alright. What… what about you?”

“Hm?” She blinks, then points to her eyes. “Oh, this? Fred insisted, remember?”

He just _knows_ his face is burning up. He already feels so skittish and childish, and the _last_ thing he wanted was for one of the gang to see him like this. Idly, part of him wonders if she can see how red his eyes are in the dim light. “What is it?”

“HL thought I should go for, like, a murderer zombie bride or whatever. Seemed badass at the time.” She scowls. “It’s awful. I can hardly move.”

“Huh.” Blankly, Hiro nods, then stammers, “…sorry. That sucks.”

“Eh, I’m exaggerating. Costumes not your thing?”

“N-not really, no.” He buries his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Go Go cocks her head to one side, eyes narrowed. “…Same. I thought you weren’t coming?”

 _Yeah, me too,_ he thinks. “I know, but I just- I wanted to…” He swallows. It’s hard to say anything else. It’s hard to think. A car lights up the road outside, and a beam of light travels across the room- lighting on the wall, flashing across the floor, and finally flowing past Go Go herself. She’s looking at him like she doesn’t trust him.

No, that’s not it. Like she doesn’t _believe_ him. Maybe there’s no difference, at this point.

“So,” she finally says, when he can’t finish his thought. “Mind telling me why you just K.O.’ed the party host at his own rave? Because that wasn’t exactly like you.”

Freezing up again, he tries to fight back the cold feeling of being trapped. That same question has been bouncing around his skull for the last ten minutes, desperate, and if he can’t come up with a reason for himself, there’s no _way_ he’ll be able to tell someone else-

Go Go twitches her mouth- not a grin, but something close. “Not saying I don’t approve. And I’m definitely not saying it wasn’t funny.”

Any other day, that would get a laugh, but he’s too sick to his stomach. “You saw that?” he says weakly.

“Mm.” The hum is laid-back, like it’s no big deal. “Tried to get your attention. Lost you in the crowd, pretty quick. Honestly, I had no idea Fred knew _half_ this many people.”

She’s trying to get him to calm down, he realizes. Derailing with jokes. Keeping it light. And that’s… wrong. Something about this is wrong. She shouldn’t be trying to help him, encourage him, because- because he’s not-

“Me neither,” he mumbles, and abruptly turns towards the windows. His footsteps echo loudly, and _God_ does that sound weird and creepy in this huge empty room, but he tries to ignore it and focus on the faint light coming through the glass. They’re frosted, so everything on the other side is blurry and warped, but he’s pretty sure he can see streetlights across the lawn, and maybe houses beyond that, but when he squints to see better another car comes through and startles him with the headlights, and then it all goes dark again.

Go Go must have followed behind him; barefoot, she’s a lot quieter.

For a moment, she only stands nearby, and the vast hall is silent again.

“…Is it Baymax?”

Of course it is. But it’s not.

He hisses out “It’s everything,” before he can stop himself; and _damn it,_ that sounded so pitiful and dramatic and _stupid._ But that memory is bearing down on him again, and it hurts- he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be talking to her, any of them, they’re- they’re all-

“It’s not like that,” he backtracks. “It’s not- It-” Hiro shakes his head, scowling. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Really.” Her voice is flat, and when he turns, the gray light and the dark circles under her eyes make her look like a ghost. Or like a frozen mask. “It doesn’t matter? You just about punched Fred in the face- and it doesn’t matter?”

_punched him in the face, and Fred was knocked onto the ground, looking up at-_

Shivers are going down his back, but at the same time he can hardly move, and he’s thinking about it, but he _can’t_ think about it, but that moment, that memory, it’s so clear so loud so bright it’s _right there._

“Hiro, come on.” She steps closer, slips out of the light; one hand reaches out, to touch his shoulder. “You know you can talk to us, right?”

He pulls back.

Her eyes widen, hand still outstretched. “What the- Hiro, are you drunk?”

“No. No. God, I’m- no.” His head is spinning. God, he's just... so _mad_ , for some reason. “Someone spilled on me.”

“Okay, that I believe.” Her hand goes back to her side, and he can barely see her anymore. “The rest? Not so much.”

She pauses; blinking, waiting for him to say something, but he can’t, because- because she’s there, in the shadows, the dying light only slightly glinting off her eyes, so she looks like a phantom of the darkness, and she moves her hand again, alone in the pale light, stretching out, pointing, commanding…

“Seriously. Hiro. What the hell’s going on?”

_-they were all staring at him-_

_-never felt this angry, this terrified-_

_“-never should have-”_

“Forget it,” he chokes out, and the words hurt, and they sound sad and pitiful and whining. “Just- it’s nothing.” Turning, he tries to start towards the exit.

“Hey! Genius!” He flinches at that, hesitates, but he doesn’t stop. “What exactly can’t you talk about with your _team_? Or does that not mean anything, at the end of the day?”

It hurts so bad- why does it hurt so much-

“So spill, alright?” she demands. “I mean, do you _want_ to just keep scaring everyone for no reason?”

Scaring everyone?

He freezes. Go Go doesn’t say anything else, but when he looks at her again, she’s just- staring. There’s a gray square of light in between them, and he can see the dark makeup around her eyes through the darkness. “What?” he rasps, sounding small and pitiful to his own ears. “What’d you say?”

“You heard me.” She crosses her arms.

Scaring everyone.

The words sink through, and he can almost picture his thoughts moving slowly, lethargically, until he makes the connection. He’s… making them worried. They want to help. Which begs the question-

Outside, a vehicle passes on the street, and the roar of the engine rumbles through the stillness in the hall.

“…Go, what exactly do you think I’m gonna do?”

He knows he sounds strange, dramatic, whispering, exhausted- probably only making things worse, given the ‘you’re worrying us’ thing. But Go Go flinches, and- and suddenly it clicks in his mind. It’s happening again. Just like Cass. And like T- like Baymax. All trying to help, trying to make his decisions for him, telling him he’s not okay, and they know better, and _he’s back in the attic, gray days passing by and not eating not sleeping not thinking and worried messages show up on the computer screen-_

_“Hey, Hiro-”_

“Just stop it,” he spits out, towards Go Go or his own thoughts, he’s not sure. But a new thought is pouring in, dark and creeping and pained, connecting the fragments until he can’t think about anything else: Tadashi’s friends were trying to contact him after the fire, and they went after him in the van to save him, and they agreed to the superhero plan, and they-

_“-you just did, we NEVER s-”_

-followed him, believed in him, and now they’re worried again, trying to see if he needs help…

He blinks, and sees Go Go looking at him in concern. This college student, years older than him, demanding that he tell her what’s going on, when- when he’s hardly known her for a month. He never questioned it.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the long days and restless nights, maybe it’s the dead-end research and the thoughts going in circles and the memories he can’t get rid of, but… a voice in the back of his mind is whispering that there’s a very specific reason she wants to help him. That all four of them want to ‘help’.

It’s him.

Because everything always comes back to _him._

This time, he doesn’t stop when she calls his name. He doesn’t listen, really. She’s probably trying to get him to wait, and she’s probably asking him something again, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s going to get the tram, and get home, like he should have done hours ago.

And tomorrow, he’ll keep working.

The simmering anger only grows as he walks, and pretty soon he’s making his way to the front of the mansion. More people. More costumes. More slurring, and drunk laughter, and people practically falling against him as he’s just trying to find the goddamn foyer so he can leave. Some jock bumps against his shoulder as they’re passing through a smaller hallway; Hiro reflexively snaps out a “Watch it”, and the guy’s either so surprised or so drunk that he doesn’t even respond, only shrugging and walking away.

It’s stupid. This is all idiotic. And when he’s out the doors, and down the grand steps, and finally at the tram stop, waiting for the night rotation to show up- he checks his phone more than once, forgetting that it’s out of battery each time- he has another stupid, unhelpful thought.

He used to _love_ Halloween.

And another thought, faster than he can stop it: well, obviously, because this is the first Halloween without-

…

There’s no one else on the tram.

…

The city’s getting colder, he notices dimly. There’s a chill in the breeze that wasn’t there a week ago.

…

Then, like he’s watching it happen to somebody else, he’s stepping down onto the sidewalk, and taking the short walk to the right street, and the café’s right there, and now… he’ll have to either sneak in quietly, or have a really, _really_ good story ready.

No, wait. His clothes probably still stink. If Cass wakes up, he won’t have a chance.

But at the same time, he can’t bring himself to care.

The back door swings shut, and he’s listening for any sound from the top of the stairs, from the entryway leading up to the second floor, where-

Where-


	14. Halloween, 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: themes of severe depression, self-loathing and obsessive thoughts. This might be the darkest chapter.
> 
> Take care of yourself, first and foremost. It's fine if you'd rather not read this one.
> 
> \---
> 
> Regular updates will be back, Monday evenings.

-where Cass Hamada is at war with herself, pacing in the living room and flipping back and forth between _it’s probably fine, it’s nothing to overreact about_ and _his phone’s not answering, and he didn’t SAY anything about being gone tonight, and he could be hurt or lost or anything else._ She’s left three messages already, and every time she’s tempted to go back to her phone to leave another, she steels herself and repeats that it’s okay, he’s probably fine, he’s forgotten to keep his phone charged in the past.

He’s just... being irresponsible, and thoughtless. She _has_ to believe that, because the alternative is- it’s unthinkable.

It’s not abnormal for him to stay late at the school, but usually he’s back before the café closes, in time for a late dinner. She’s already gotten everything closed up, and finished the cleaning for tomorrow morning, _and_ tallied up the receipts. And he’s still not back. She swears, if this is just a trick to get out of doing chores, she’s going to-

The back door finally opens, and she about has a heart attack.

“Hiro!” Rushing over from the kitchen, she makes it to the top of the landing stairs before he does. “Hiro, where on earth _were_ you?”

He has his backpack slung over one shoulder, and he only briefly looks up from the steps to meet her eyes- then he looks away again, shrugging. “Just… with friends. We wanted to hang out after classes. Sorry, uh, about my phone. I just-”

“You could have used one of theirs,” she says immediately, fighting to keep the panic and relief from making her voice louder than it needs to be. “Hiro, I can’t just- _not know_ where you are. Or- or at least I need to be able to call you!”

“I know, m’sorry,” he mumbles again, trying to make his way past her.

“Hiro, _wait._ You- _”_

She catches his arm-

-and freezes instantly, because there are _several_ things wrong with this picture. First and foremost: “Why _exactly_ do you smell like alcohol?” she demands. This is it, isn’t it? This is the end. Every paranoid worry that’s ever crossed her mind, every _what if I’m not ready to raise kids_ thought, every panic that her sweet little baby could potentially become a delinquent who parties at- at _raves_ or _clubs_ or wherever kids go these days, and end up dealing drugs or smuggling money or something and get abducted by a gang or _good grief, the mob_ , all because she didn’t take the right steps in giving him discipline- or are you supposed to discipline _less_ to help your kids grow, she doesn’t know, the parenting books are infuriatingly contradictory on that point-

“It’s not me,” he says, head lowered, cheeks pink with embarrassment, not looking at her. “A drink spilled on me, so it’s all over my clothes.”

Oh. Well then.

She lets go of his shoulder, then frowns and puts her hand right back. Is that an excuse? Is that a common, really silly lie that teenagers use, and she should be able to see through right away? She doesn’t know! It’s not like she had to deal with this kind of thing before!

…Actually, now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty sure she remembers her brother using that exact line back in the day. And their father instantly shutting down that point- because if you’re too young to drink, you certainly shouldn’t be at a party with alcohol anyway, much less a _bar_ or any other place where that could even _happen-_ and now she’s right back to being angry and worried.

“So,” she says, “Do you mind telling me where you were that was _serving_ drinks?”

“It’s not-” He shakes his head, and pulls away from her, before hefting his backpack so it’s not slipping. “It’s not a big deal. I was at Fred’s, and some guy brought booze- _for himself_ ,” he adds quickly when Cass’s eyes go wide- “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but jocks aren’t the most graceful and careful people to begin with, so once Gorilla Man was already buzzed, he wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of hand-eye coordination.”

…Okay. That random, oddly specific insult actually _does_ strengthen his case that he hasn’t been drinking, because he spits the words out without any hesitation or slur in his voice. In the moment Cass needs to process that, Hiro scowls again and takes another step through the landing, clearly meaning to cut the conversation short and head up the stairs. “Hiro, _wait._ I’m-”

“It doesn’t matter,” he hisses, and- yeah, that’s a tone she hasn’t heard him use in a while. “It’s _fine_ , okay, it’s not like I _drank_ any.”

“That’s not the point! Look, I- you know I like your friends, and I think they’re a good influence.” And he stiffens at that, glaring, like that hurt him somehow- maybe she said the exact wrong thing- “But that doesn’t mean you can just… run around to whatever parties you want! Without telling me you’ll be out this late, and- and not telling me where you’ll be, and _not having your phone!”_

“I had my phone!” he says, eyes dark as he stands in the half-shadow from the faint light above the stairway. “It just- it ran out of power! I messed up, alright? It was a mistake!”

“Mistake? _Mistake?_ ” She’s panicking, because there’s no time to think. There’s no time to sit down and figure out the right thing to say, the right parenting decision, because she’s not a parent and she doesn’t know what she’s doing and there’s no _time-_ “Hiro, you can’t keep doing this! You can’t just- do whatever you want, then say you’re sorry and think everything will be fine! You need to-”

_“Just stop it!”_

He doesn’t yell it, but there’s a harsh rasp in the words- Cass takes a step back without meaning to. “Stop telling me what I can and can’t do, alright? Just- just-” He’s _shaking_ now, and he can’t even look at her, instead staring down at the floor. “God, I’m sorry I can’t follow every stupid rule, and I’m sorry I can’t be _perfect_ and never screw up-”

She forces herself to interrupt, and to not waver at all- even though this is the last thing she wants to be doing right now. “It’s not about the rules. Hiro, I-” She has to stay firm, has to stay strong, has to help him realize- “I don’t care about that. Do you understand how _awful_ I felt, when it was getting this late, and I couldn’t call you? I didn’t know where you were, or if you were safe, and there was _nothing I could do._ I was terrified that you might be hurt somewhere, or- or lost, or-”

Some sick, paranoid part of her mind cuts in- _or one of those heroes, risking death and keeping secrets-_

But she shuts it down, and finishes speaking before her shaking voice gets the best of her. “And I don’t _ever_ want to worry that I might not see you again!”

(-she imagines him looking at her, shocked and dismayed, and bowing his head and saying _I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it like that, I’ll- I won’t do it again,_ and they actually come to some common ground and they don’t keep _scaring_ each other, and things get better and they’re fine and she doesn’t lay awake so many nights anymore- it’s a comforting thought-)

“You don’t _have_ to,” Hiro seethes, like nothing she just said left any kind of impact. “I keep telling you, I’m fine! Okay? I’ll be alright! So you don’t have to worry all the time, and- and freak out whenever I don’t get everything exactly right!”

“Stop _saying_ that. You’re- you’re not-” Her head is spinning, and the words are getting jumbled together as she tries to piece them apart. “Please, just stop-”

“Yeah! Fine!” Hiro says immediately, raising his hands with a sarcastic ‘surrender’ motion. “Great! Can I go to bed now? Can I go get some sleep?” The last part is angry, scathing, as if he’s saying _you know, like you keep telling me I have to do?_

“No, it’s not- Hiro, you-” She can feel it, all the fear and sadness and anxiety, still there, but also slowly turning red-hot and angry, right or wrong- “Don’t you understand what you’re doing? What could happen to you? You’re so _smart,_ so-” There’s a darkness, a weight, a blistering pain in her heart, and she says through gritted teeth- without thinking- just slips out-

“So why can’t you- why can’t you just-”

_Just-_

The words die. Cass freezes. She can feel that her face has gone pale. She’s not sure exactly what she was going to say next. Maybe ‘why can’t you just understand?’ or ‘why can’t you just listen?’ Or- or maybe something else-

But Hiro is silent. He’s facing her from the first step, and the burnt-out light in the living room is across from him, so part of his face is darker than the rest as he glares at her. “What?” he says quietly,

“I-I-” She can’t say anything. It’s… it’s pressing on her, like stones, slowly driving her down until she can’t stand.

Hiro’s expression changes ever so slightly. Instead of simmering resentment, now he’s- he’s looking at her with wider eyes, a hint of shock and fury and something much, much more pained than before. “What?” he demands, and she’s pretty sure his hands are shaking. “What were you gonna say?”

She won’t. She can’t. She was- she was going to- she can’t even _think_ about it-

“Why can’t I…” He closes his eyes, but he’s still trembling, and Cass realizes this is the angriest she’s ever seen him. “Why can’t I just be more like him, right?”

...

...

...

There it is. Her breath catches. They- neither one of them, they don’t bring him up like this. They _never_ use him for arguments, or to make a point, or anything else. “That was it, right?” he rasps, and his hands go up and press against his face, covering his eyes. “You want me to- to stop screwing up all the time, and try to be just like him, because he’s the perfect kid, perfect student, perfect everything, and-”

“Hiro- I don’t-”

“It’d be better if I was like him, if I didn’t get it _wrong_ all the time, if I didn’t keep making everything worse- no matter how hard I try-” His hands pull away, and red, sullen eyes lock onto her.

“It should have been me, right?”

She doesn’t know what he means by that, for a moment. Then the words connect, and she hears what he’s really saying, and her heart shatters- because she didn’t know she could hurt this much for someone- _how long has he been thinking that-_

“…Oh my God,” she whispers, and she wants to say more, so much more, but she can’t. “No, you- you’re not-”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” he says, and his eyes are blazing, like he’s ready to hit her, or turn and run, or like he’s terrified of what he just said but he can’t take it back. “I mean, if it had to be _somebody_ , then at least it should have been the one who _deserved_ it more, right? Right?” It’s like he can’t even see her, like he’s arguing with someone else- because Cass would never think that, but maybe Hiro _would-_ “And it couldn’t be him, obviously, because he was so fucking PERFECT, wasn’t he, and everything would be _better_ if it had been me instead-”

She screams.

For a moment, she loses track of- of everything. She doesn’t black out, but Hiro’s words and the room around them and the boiling, stabbing _something_ in her mind all fly together and apart again like a supernova, and she’s- screaming, without words, and she’s- she-

The world comes back. The scream echoes, and fades- she’s standing two steps closer to Hiro, and he jumps back, a look of pure shock on his face- and he trips over the steps behind him, awkwardly falling onto his side.

Her arm is raised in the air.

…

Oh, n- no. No. No, it can’t- she wasn’t-

…

God, no. Please.

…

Was- was she about to- did she almost-

…

Some far-off, disconnected part of her- the part that isn’t frozen in horror- wonders if it’s better that her hand isn’t closed into a fist. Would a slap be more forgivable, or… worse?

…

There’s ice in her lungs, in her arm, cutting and crushing her, and she can’t speak. _I’m so sorry,_ or _Oh my God, Hiro, please- I didn’t mean to,_ or anything else- she’s never yelled at him like that, and she’s certainly never tried to- almost-

For awful, painful, slow seconds, he just… stares at her. She can’t say it. The words aren’t there.

Then, finally, other words are.

“…Don’t you dare say something like that, ever again,” she whispers.

Hiro doesn’t say anything.

_It’s almost funny ha ha always trying to do the right thing always wondered what a real parent would do_

_Oh look at me I’m just doing my best to raise two crazy teenagers ha ha_

Cass wonders if she’s losing her mind. Hiro’s face has gone pale, and he shakily pushes himself up until he’s standing. Then, he limps his way up the stairs to the attic.

She doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, she turns- ‘numb’ doesn’t seem like it begins to cover it- and takes steps, one at a time, moving down the hallway towards the bedroom and the bathroom, and… the house is quiet, now, just step-step-step echoing off the walls around her, soft and steady, like nothing happened. Like it was all a nightmare, and Hiro’s been up in his room sleeping, and she- she only needed to grab some water, and now she’s going to try to get back to sleep, and tomorrow, everything will be fine.

Ha. There’s that word again.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, not entirely remembering the walk to get in here- and all the memories are still there, but muted, like the accompanying shock and revulsion at what she said- what _Hiro_ said- aren’t going to hit her until later. For now, there’s only a hollow ache, as if something vital is missing. Like it’s been gone for months, and she’s only just now admitting that she she can't find it again.

She’s… empty.

She’s failing.

And even though she’s so, _so_ tired, she doesn’t want to close her eyes, because whenever she does, she sees the way Hiro looked- staring up at her, eyes wide, shocked, all the color gone from his face- and he’s-

He-

He stumbles into the attic, almost falling on the last step; standing straighter, he tenses and closes his eyes until the buzz of anger and tense energy stops crackling in his mind.

It doesn’t stop.

…He would hate this.

Hiro finally looks up, blinking, moving to the side of the room- numb, fluttering, livid and somehow lethargic, a million feelings that don’t make sense together- like he’s not the one moving his feet, or his arms, or crafting the thoughts in his head. Like he’s just watching.

He’d _hate_ this.

The room’s still dark. He doesn’t bother turning on the light, and when he takes another step, his foot collides with the bedpost- he stumbles to the ground, twisting and ending up on one knee. Tears spring to his eyes from the sudden pain, but he closes his eyes tightly.

“Just stop,” he hisses out, and he doesn’t know why, or who he’s saying it to. “Stop it.”

_He’d hate this._

Why’d she have to try to… _control_ him like that? Why is it no matter where he is or what he’s doing, she’s always worried that he needs someone watching over his shoulder, telling him what to do next? Just like Tadashi used to. He presses his hands against his face, putting pressure on the area around his eyes-

It’s nothing but hate, strong and burning and sick, and the worst part is- he imagines Tadashi, and Cass, and… out of the three of them, he can't decide who he hates the most.

…Hah. That's not true. It’s not even close, really.

…

He’d be so disappointed.

“Just _stop_ ,” he chokes out, but that's stupid because it doesn't _matter_ because _he’s the only one up here._

He doesn’t have the energy to stand- and it hurts too much, anyway, so he just curls up on himself and pulls his foot closer. It still hurts. “I don’t care,” he says, and it’s nonsense, he knows it is- “I don’t care, it doesn’t matter, I don’t _care_ ,” and it’s louder than he meant it to be, but the sound fades quickly, and soon he can only hear his own hastened breathing, only sees the dim outline of the walls in the faint light, only feels the floorboards under him. He freezes for a moment, then leans back so he’s pushing up against the foot of the bed.

He’s never seen her look like that before. And- he’s never thought about- or, he’s never admitted that- never said the words out loud, because as long as they’re just thoughts he can ignore them, but now they’re real with sound and anger and _it- should- have- been- me-_

_it should have been me-_

_it SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME-_

There’s a memory, playing in his mind over and over, but he can’t think about it. He can’t.

There aren’t any more tears. It was only because of hitting his foot, after all. Hiro closes his eyes and breathes out, and tries to think about nothing.

_“-it, Baymax! Destr-”_

Breathe in.

_“-you ever say something like that again-”_

Breathe out.

_“-what would Mom and Dad s-”_

Breathe in.

_Fred, staring up at him from the ground, neon lights reflecting bright and golden in his eyes, blood streaming from where he hit the ground, across his pale face in crooked lines, a mask with red lines yellow eyes white face staring staring STARING-_

…

He doesn’t sleep for hours.

…

…

…

But when he finally does, the dreams are-

they-

they’re-

-they're wild, and fast, and chill her down to the bone- orange lights pouring out skyward from the building, and sirens, and smoke, and she can see the red and blue of the police lights in Hiro’s eyes-

And suddenly time flows backwards, and it’s not a fire, but a car crash, and she- she gets a call, and she’s racing as fast as she can, and it’s not enough-

She’s not enough-

Awake. Dark. Breathing. Quiet. Numbers, bright red- 4:04 AM. Tired. Tense.

Cass shudders, and rolls over, but the unsettling feeling of pins and needles keeps creeping over the skin on her arms, and she’s caught in some bizarre half-lucidity; too unfocused to properly concentrate, but too frazzled to start to drift off. So the not-dreams play out while her eyes are still open, thought trails that go nowhere and everywhere all at once, until the awful, awful things Hiro yelled fly through her memory for the hundredth time and she pushes it all away and sits up in her bed.

...She never had any delusions that raising kids would be easy.

But at least, she used to think that she’d get _better_ at it over time. That… maybe with experience would come wisdom, and eventually she’d be a seasoned pro, handling tough decisions with aplomb, proudly watching her nephews grow up and change the world. She never imagined every decision, every tough conversation, every biting and bitter shouting match would leave her _less_ sure of herself. Handling Tadashi’s teenage ‘rebel’ phase had been difficult enough, and a particularly heated argument about taking the car out on a Friday night had ended with some choice words on both sides.

Nothing like this, though.

She softly pads down the hall, towards the bathroom, and stops in front of the sink without turning the light on. Because of the small nightlight by the mirror, she can just barely see her own face, and the mostly-shadowed room around her. She stares at herself while pouring a cup of water.

Then, of course, there was Hiro’s high school debacle. It started with difficulty, and only got more complicated- the age difference between him and his peers had shoved him into a corner, and made him feel like the only way out was to lower his shoulders and start swinging. At least, that was the metaphor the guidance counselor used, which turned out _not_ to be a metaphor, when he told her Hiro had been suspended for fighting. For the third time in his sophomore year.

So Hiro’s scowling face, and a black eye, and a mumbled “Just bullies, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it,” brought out something in her that made her feel like an avenging angel of death, and of _course_ she marched down to the high school ready to give the staff a piece of her mind, because how could they let this kind of thing happen to the youngest and most isolated, lonely kid at their school- only to learn that not only had Hiro called the ‘bully’ in question a “colossal idiot”, but he’d also thrown the first punch, once the taunting and shouting got violent.

The strangest case was when Hiro- her ten-year-old, precious, intelligent, arrogant, confused, angry little guy- broke down crying one evening, saying “Why isn’t it working, I made it _perfect_ ,” and when she asked what he meant by that, he pulled papers out of his backpack showing the algorithm he’d worked on, predicting which friends he should make to minimize the bullying.

…What was she supposed to do with something like that?

Cass sets the cup back down on the sink, realizing she wasn’t that thirsty in the first place, and splashes some of the water into her face instead. Vaguely, she remembers that that’s the cliché thing to do when you’re trying to wake up, not get back to sleep- but honestly, at this point, she doesn’t really care. Stepping back into the hallway, she hesitates, glancing towards the living room.

Where, if she turned around that corner, she’d be right at the base of the steps leading to the attic.

…

Tadashi was _so_ good with him, though. Every time Cass felt like she was at her wit’s end, every time she thought there was nothing else she could do to help him, Tadashi somehow found a way. She’ll never forget the night she heard muffled whispering and crying, and when she was halfway up the stairs to make sure everything was alright, stopped because Tadashi was quietly sharing a story with his brother, from when he’d had trouble in his freshman year of high school. How the bullies had been there, too, and how it had been really tough to make friends.

And she had turned around without letting them know she heard, because it seemed so personal, and- and because she had _never_ sat him down and tried to share her own experiences relating to what he was going through, since she’d been too focused on trying to figure out the right advice or the perfect parenting decision, and she felt so ashamed to think that Tadashi was helping Hiro so, so much more than she ever could, both at school and away from it.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she shuts her eyes tight- before opening them again, and turning back to the bedroom.

The night of the arrest had been… bizarre. “Hanging out at the library,” Hiro had said. “I’ll take the tram home before Beat Poetry night’s over,” he’d said. Honestly, she didn’t even catch _Tadashi_ leaving; he’d been eating cinnamon rolls with that Ethel girl in the back of the café all the way through Mrs. Mitsuha’s weirdly abstract piece about soulmates or something. And then he must have suddenly decided that his Hiro-senses were tingling, because he was just _gone._ And then a phone call, and her heart had jumped into her throat when a gruff policeman asked for Cass Hamada.

They were fine, of course. Well… medically, anyway.

She shakes that memory away, trying her best not to focus on it too much. There was nothing good to be gained from reliving past mistakes over and over.

Because that’s what they were, really. Mistakes. Missed opportunities. The feeling sneaks up on her, sometimes, and she doesn’t even realize she’s thinking it: she could have done so much better. She _should_ have.

...She’s not getting better at this pseudo-parenting business. In fact, she seems to be getting worse.

The thought is vile, and nauseous, and it sticks in her stomach and makes her head hurt, but she can’t get rid of it. Because spats with Tadashi were nothing. Hiro having a hard time in high school was _nothing._ Even the night of the arrest- at the time, seeming like the end of the world- she’d give anything to say that was the lowest, most painful night of her life.

None of that was anything, compared to the night of the Showcase.

Her throat tightens.

Cass gets back in bed, but stares up at the ceiling and _knows_ that she won’t be sleeping any time soon- because it was nothing compared to the showcase, or the days after- or every morning, that she had to suddenly remember, that- that he was just _gone._ An absence like a physical presence, she could never escape. The terrible, searing pain of having a few seconds- just an instant, after waking up- where her mind thought he would still be there, getting ready for classes or making coffee or tossling Hiro’s hair.

…nothing compared to seeing Hiro’s eyes- or walking up to the attic with a plate of food and finding another untouched, uneaten plate, or asking him questions and getting no response, or-

Or this.

After every mistake, it all feels worse. She _is_ … worse.

God, there have been an awful lot of mistakes.

And when she finally does drift into sleep, for a few fitful hours before the coming morning, that’s the lone idea that still dances in the strange half-dreams.

_Mistake._


	15. November, 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like the chapter titles I have set up, right now. It makes the list look a bit too muddled. Might be trying to change them in the future.

_...I'm not sure why I'm writing this. It's probably a mistake. I wonder if I'm just making things worse._

_But that’s nothing new, I guess._

_..._

_..._

_..._

November rolls in, slow and quiet and gray, and uncertainty comes with it.

It’s been a rough day. Halloween's been hanging over him, like a ghost at his shoulder; Hiro tells himself he needs some air, some time to himself, a chance to clear his head. He’s not particularly paying attention to where he’s going.

That, too, is what he tells himself, when he finds a familiar tram station, and rides for exactly seven and a half minutes, stepping off onto a quiet street not far from the docks. And when he keeps walking, down streets and then cramped lanes and eventually alleys, a route he has memorized, he doesn’t bother wondering if he came here on purpose or not.

It looks different, in the afternoon light. Empty. Silent. He tilts his head to one side, and he can picture Yama, sitting _right there_ \- and the faint outline of the fight circle is still visible, right in the center of the alcove. The best spots to actually see the fighting are near the crates along the wall, but it’s a little _too_ close, sometimes, and a few of the more… excitable players have started fistfights in the past. Of course, if you know the scene, you know the best escape routes, starting with the abandoned building on _that_ side, and if anyone’s trying to follow you, your best bet is to scamper down _those_ walls…

He knows this game awfully well.

He doesn’t step into the open space, only leaning against the wall. It hasn’t been the most popular location since the police raid, obviously, but someone will probably use it again once the heat dies down- hell, for all he knows, they could still be using it.

Maybe even this weekend.

A shiver hits him, and he tries to ignore the twinge of nausea in his stomach. Abruptly, he turns and retraces his steps the way he came. Cass will wonder where he disappeared to for an extra hour, but whatever.

…It’s been _so long._

But he can still remember what it felt like, all eyes on him as he nervously dropped a crumpled handful of bills in the plate- and the controlled, agonizing patience of waiting to play his hand, pretending to be a scared newbie who was in over his head, drawing it out until he _knew_ Yama was hooked, just like he scammed the other big names- Gears, and Tetsuo, and Slugger, and Black Eye, and Hitoshi, and Yoshido’s brother, and a half dozen more.

Walking into the lions’ den, gambling with the devil, and flying back out by the skin of his teeth. Even now, it makes him shiver, the phantom-adrenaline buzzing in his brain, and his fingers clench up against his hands, and he remembers- being scared, absolutely _terrified,_ because no matter how confident he was, he was also smart enough to know this could get him killed in a heartbeat, but it was so much _fun_ , and he didn’t want to stop, and over time the fear changed into energy, lightning in his bones and in his fingers, tricking cash away from back-alley criminals purely because _he was smarter than them._

Abruptly, he pushes off the wall and turns back the way he came.

At the stop, it’s only around ten minutes before the tram is back. Mostly empty, this time. All the same, he stands and holds onto the rail overhead, instead of sitting down. Gradually, the scenery beyond the window picks up speed.

Lightning. That was a good way to picture it. Or- no, not exactly, more like... sparks, man-made and popping out of wires and circuit boards, dangerous and powerful and bringing machines to life. _That’s_ what he felt like, weaving and dodging through the alleys and past the thugs who could have torn him limb from limb- and he _knew_ they could, but honestly, that made it so much more extreme, to risk it all without looking back and come away laughing, because- because at the end of the day-

The tram passes through a tunnel, and the bright view of the city outside vanishes. Hiro is left staring at his own reflection.

…because at the end of the day, he had a reliable getaway driver.

The nausea hits him again, and he closes his eyes against the sudden memory. He swore, twice over- once after Tadashi showed him the lab, and once again after the funeral, the first night he felt that same pull to sneak away and hop on the tram with a robot and a stack of bills in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He wouldn’t go back. Ever. And that was a promise he fully intends to keep, but- but then why is he here at all?

Light hits his vision, even before he opens his eyes- and when he does, the tram’s in the open air again, and he can see the slope of one of the biggest avenues in the city, going up the hill and through the commons not too far from the café. For a moment, he simply watches. He thought he’d catch sight of the blimps, again, but from this angle, they’re replaced by the streamers and lanterns- dark, now, but they’ll be flaring with vibrant colors by sunset- hanging from the rooftops and signaling the nearing Fall Festival. The last time he went, he’d been busy pretending he didn’t think it was cool anymore, while Tadashi made him try three different varieties of deep-fried pastries in the span of an hour (they both agreed that none of them held a candle to Aunt Cass’s cooking), and Aunt Cass had surprised both of them by proving to be the most daring thrill-ride-junkie of the three, eagerly dragging them from the ferris wheel to the spinning one where the floor dropped out to the crazy tower-plunge thing that made Hiro throw up but he still demanded that they go on it again-

His mind goes in three directions at once, even as he purposefully tilts his head down so he can’t look at the decorations anymore.

One- he’s not thinking about the festival, he’s _not_ thinking about the food, or the rides, or Tadashi betting him five dollars he couldn’t win the ring toss game, or the look on his face when Hiro won, or the girl who walked past them and winked at Tadashi, and said “Good to see you again, Hamada,” and Tadashi’s cheeks went bright red and he kept saying _Shut up, Hiro, it’s not funny,_ and Hiro couldn’t stop laughing and asking him for the details, because apparently _Lover-boy is keeping a few secrets,_ and Tadashi yanked Hiro’s hood over his face so he couldn’t see, and it basically turned into a full-on wrestling match in the middle of the boardwalk and Hiro had never had so much fun in his whole life.

Two- the nausea is _still there, it’s really not going away_ , and he slowly sinks to one of the seats while wincing. Because the memory of the fights is strong, so vivid he can almost picture the announcer’s face, grinning at the roaring crowd while introducing the fighters- and that tension, that fear and excitement and peril and thrill, it’s all coalescing until he’s not just remembering it, he’s _feeling_ it again, and it feels like- feels too much like-

Three- the ride at the festival, the tower-drop thing, when he was waiting and laughing nervously with his brother and he turned to make a joke about terminal velocity or something and then they _fell-_ they dropped out of the sky- just like- just like when-

The bile almost comes up right then, and he grits his teeth and leans over, arms pulled around his middle as he tries not to hurl. Because he can still feel it, flying, screaming over the city impossibly fast, _falling out of the sky_ , blurring together with everything else-

That first moment, when he saw the mask, and Yokai’s arm raised and pointed at him- and the _swarm_ started moving, chattering, building, reaching towards him when _he was the one who built them-_

The van chase, faster than he’d ever moved, wind and adrenaline pricking his skin with every passing second and trying not to think about how, statistically, he was most likely to die in a car crash, and Go Go wasn’t blinking and Fred was screaming and he couldn’t see Baymax’s face-

The portal, colors swirling and shifting and cold, drifting through nothing and wondering if they’d ever get back out or if it would be like this forever _is this what Abigail felt-_

A giant block of cinder and concrete, closer and closer, about to crush them, and all he could dimly think was that _he was about to die-_

(Floating in the air for a moment, falling backward, eyes closing against the blast- but he’d already lost sight of Tadashi anyway-)

And one other memory, that he’s not going to think about- looking down at- pointing at- giving Baymax the command-

- _only seeing red-_ ~~~~

Shit. No. This is bad. It’s not just his stomach, or the way his head hurts so much but he’s not sure if it’s real pain or if it’s just in his mind, it’s- it’s all of it, mixing together and getting stronger until he can hardly _think_ because it’s so big and dark and cold and _Baymax still isn’t here_. It’s the same mess that keeps his eyes open, late at night, buzzing and sparking in his brain so loud so bright so _painful_ that there’s nothing else he can do except keep working.

But. Problem is, if you- if you aren’t getting enough rest, then…

Hiro barks out a laugh, but it makes his stomach pitch and spasm, and he feels like his throat is on fire- and it’s just dry heaves, but it FEELS like he’s coughing up blood or bile or anything else.

…then exhaustion and lack of sleep will weaken your immune system. And Hiro knows this, because he’s a genius, and his best friend is a nursing robot with an extensive knowledge of medical problems. Ha. Ha ha.

It’s funny.

It passes eventually, and he’s left bent over at the waist, one hand propping up his forehead and the other arm curled in front of his stomach- like _that’s_ going to help, he thinks bitterly. He breathes as deeply as he can, until the godawful sickly-sweet-dry-burning taste is mostly gone, and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to pass out.

…

A few cars down, there’s a woman watching him with a nervous expression. He didn’t notice her before now.

Eventually, he raises a feeble hand. “A’right,” he rasps, then clears his throat and tries again. “M’fine. Sorry.”

Her eyebrows are still raised, but she turns back to her phone after a moment.

For some reason, he keeps looking at her, just for a few seconds. Then, he blinks and turns his gaze to the ground again.

…God, he’s an absolute mess.

There’s cold sweat on his forehead, slowly dripping down his face, and he tries to wipe as much away with his sleeve as he can.

He breathes. Keeping his eyes closed for too long only makes the dizziness worse, but watching the buildings move past seems to have the same problem, so he’s stuck awkwardly looking and not-looking every couple seconds, and his head hurts and his stomach hurts and he wants nothing more than to just… stop. Just push everything away, and focus on something else. Pretend it’s fine.

It won’t work. But nothing _will_ , so who cares, right?

Hiro concentrates, and very deliberately doesn’t think about _any_ of that, mentally going through his plan from here on out. Actually structuring the physical pieces of the frame, is… well, more complicated than it first seemed. It’s nothing like 3-d printing the armor plates, and he has to visualize exactly how the material will stretch and move and operate under different circumstances, and how to combine that with Tadashi’s notes, and how to fudge the rest with his best guess, because he doesn’t actually _have_ all of Tadashi’s notes, particularly the numbered test videos that are pretty much gone forever because the only goddamn copy is in Baymax’s chip itself, and he can’t get to it without risking the erasure of literally everything he’s trying to save.

Speaking of the chip- he’s barely even started the work on that volatile monstrosity.

The tram rattles slightly. Hiro doesn’t look up. The first supply of vinyl is waiting at an outlet store a half hour away. It won’t be enough- but he still doesn’t have the money to buy a bigger order. So at least he has a starting point, because that will provide him with a first rough ‘test’ of structuring Baymax’s frame.

But it’s hard to avoid thinking that that’s hardly the first priority right now, because his work on the chip has been nonexistent at best and _potentially catastrophic_ at worst- it’s one thing to envision terms like ‘irreparable circuit damage’, and another to realize that if he isn’t surgically precise with the work, he will literally destroy parts of Baymax’s personality.

…Hah. ‘destroy parts of Baymax’s personality’ is a poor choice of words, since he was the one who tried to-

He grits his teeth, and doesn’t think about it. A mistake, it turns out, since the next minuscule bump the tram hits sends a jolt of pain through his molars.

But it won’t be impossible. The actuators aren’t as out of reach as he thought they might be; with some more research, he’ll be close to a working prototype. It won’t be as good as Tadashi’s, but it won’t have to be, since he just needs an approximation so he can see how the power source connects, and if he has to modify that in any way.

And the progress on the translator program is encouraging, too. It isn’t much; just a series of inputs and outputs, which would hopefully let him communicate with Baymax before perfectly reconstructing the body. Ideally, if he can use the lab to jerry-rig some kind of adaptor to hold the chip, and connect the whole thing to anything with a keyboard and a screen… But he’s getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t _dare_ try messing with the chip at all, until he’s sure he won’t cause more damage.

Hiro suddenly realizes he’s been mumbling to himself, when he notices that the woman from earlier is giving him a look like he just dropped in from the skylight. His face goes red awfully quickly, and he stammers out another apology- but she turns back to her phone, and the tram keeps moving.

His eyes wander over the buildings outside, homes and businesses and government buildings passing by in an instant. The whole city, shifting and turning right in front of him.

He’ll have to leave off work on the chip itself, for now. Until he can be more sure. But Baymax’s physical construction- that, he can do. The skeleton’s not done yet, but he’s making progress. Finally. The only other problem is money, still, and it’s not like he has any free time to pick up a job or- hell, he’s fourteen, so most of the city wouldn’t let him work anyway-

The buildings pass by, but he can see the shadows and the alleys in between, too.

…Of course, there’s _one_ way he knows to make cash in a hurry.

The thought doesn’t scare him, or make him excited and anticipatory like it used to. It just makes him feel sick, again. He tries to ignore it, because he _swore,_ and there’s no way he’d- he would never- not- he’s spinning through the same thoughts again, almost like he’s not in control of them, and the entire debate goes back and forth until it lands in the exact same place as before.

If he swore he wouldn’t fight again, why is he here?

The question burns at him, until he deliberately answers it, in his mind: he's here so he can choose to go back home.

...Hah. As if that makes any sense.

This was a waste of time.

His phone buzzes, jolting him out of his thoughts. He stares down at a text from Honey, and abruptly realizes that he hasn’t talked to the gang in a week or more. Not since Halloween. And… now, he’s on less-than-great terms with Go Go and Fred, at least, and probably Wasabi, too- though, he thinks, he could insult Honey Lemon to her face and she’d likely still ask him if he’s doing alright.

She’d lecture him until his head spun, but she wouldn’t hold a grudge.

…None of them would, really.

_unless you push them away_

Even so, Hiro doesn’t answer. The phone slips back in his pocket. The buildings flash past. Hiro leans his head back, eyes closed, and for just a moment he doesn't think about anything. Not the others, or his work, or the alley he's drifting away from. 

He _doesn't_ think about Cass. About Halloween.

He’s tired.


	16. November, 2

This time, Cass doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t cry, or break down in impossible questions that the gravestone can’t answer, or reminisce over the good times or dream about getting to talk to him again. She only stands in silence, looking at the name on the stone until the setting sun makes her shield her eyes.

She wants to, of course. She wants to cry, and yell, and beat her fists against the granite as if that will somehow make things better, as if it’s this grave’s fault, as if it can somehow bring him back or help her sleep or take back everything Hiro said or- or- or let her take his place-

Most of all, though, Cass wants to ask him what she’s supposed to do about Hiro. What she _can_ do, when he slinks around the house with a look like a cornered animal, when just seeing him is enough to bring her to tears, but she doesn’t know if she’s crying from fear or sadness or anger towards him, anger towards her nephew who’s hurting just as much as she is _but sometimes she doesn’t care about that and she’s so angry she doesn’t know what she might do_ , which only makes her more afraid.

_-the answer’s simple, isn’t it, just talk to him, tell him he doesn’t have to feel that way, tell him you love him and would never in a million lifetimes wish that he was gone for any reason_

_Tell him you’ve never once thought that it would be better, if he’d died instead_

_Tell him_

_~~Even if it might not be true~~ _

And if Tadashi was here, she could _ask_ him, and he could help. It'd be so simple. An unfair burden to put on him, heavy and unreasonable and selfish of her to even ask, but he would know what to do and Hiro might actually _listen_ to him, and maybe they- wouldn’t be so broken- maybe they’d be better-

…

She can’t say any of these things. So she simply keeps the sun out of her eyes, and lets the faint breeze chill her until she’s shivering.

“…Miss Hamada?”

If she wasn’t so lost in her own world, she might have jumped. As is, she doesn’t realize the tentative voice is directed at her until she blinks, and turns, to see… one of Tadashi’s friends. The girl with the cheery smile, and the blonde hair, and- to be completely honest, Cass hasn’t talked to her in a long time. Or… ever? And she doesn’t actually think she can recall the girl’s name.

“H-hello,” she finally says. It takes a moment to move out of the world of memory and thought, and into the world where there’s another person patiently waiting for her to say something. Cass blinks, and clears her throat. “Can I help you?” is what eventually comes out of her mouth, and she’s instantly aware of how silly it sounds.

The girl seems to take it a different way, though. “I’m sorry,” she says hesitantly, eyes darting back to the path. “I’ll- I’ll leave you alone- sorry.” Still mumbling, she turns.

“That’s alright,” Cass says. “I didn’t mean… well, I wasn’t…” She’s already flustered from the surprise of seeing someone else here, and trying to piece together her thoughts isn’t going terribly well.

The girl has turned back- Honey Lemon, _that_ was it; why do these children have such strange names for each other- “You’re sure?” she says with a concerned, eyebrows-raised frown. “Because I can-”

Cass nods, and attempts a reassuring smile- though she can’t imagine how it looks on her tired face. Ducking her head, the young woman approaches again, eventually standing beside her. Her hesitant look and quiet movements are a far cry from the bright, loud figure Cass is used to seeing around the café.

She looks like she’s about to ask something, but stops and looks ahead, towards the stone.

The wind is still bracing. Cass, too, turns to face forward.

…

At first, she had a tinge of worry, over seeing one of Tadashi’s friends. But… maybe there’s not much to say.

She’s grateful for the jacket, this time, as the sun begins to slip behind thin clouds near the horizon. In fact, rolling gray billows are coming in from the west, and gradually creeping over more and more of the sky above her.

…

No, there _is_ more she wishes she could say. But- not now. She can’t.

Then the girl next to her takes in a breath. “I… I’ve only come here twice.” It rings out, even though she said it like she was admitting a quiet secret. “Since the funeral, I mean. I always say I’m going to, more often, but…”

Just like Cass herself. She stiffens, marveling at how easy it seems for her to speak openly about this. “I’m not sure,” the girl says with a gentle lift of one shoulder. “Maybe deep down, I just- don’t want to.” There’s sorrow there, and shame along with it- when Cass turns, the girl’s head is bowed, and she knows it wasn’t a declaration of anything other than grief.

The words slip out, and for once, she feels like they’re the right thing to say. “You’re here now.”

She smiles briefly, but her head stays lowered. Like she’s trying to convince herself, the girl nods. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

The wind pushes Cass to hold her arms around herself. The girl looks back to her. “Thank you,” she says.

She wants to say _you’re welcome_ , but the words are stuck. She’s- honestly, she’s not sure what’s wrong, right now. Beyond, well, everything. So Cass nods instead, and focuses her gaze just above the headstone until the shiver on her back and the tightening in her throat both fade, and she’s able to take deeper breaths.

The girl doesn’t pry, or ask her anything. Maybe that’s why, eventually, Cass feels steady enough to continue talking. “I’m… sorry,” she begins. “But I think… I don’t actually know your name. I mean, your real name.”

Her head swings around with a wide-eyed look of surprise- and than, contrary to the expected _really_ or _how dare you_ or _rude_ , she actually smiles. She even starts to giggle. “No, I get it." The bright smile Cass recognizes is _almost_ there. “It’s fine. The nicknames get kinda confusing.”

She extends her hand, even straightening to mock a serious, official stance. “Ana Luiz Ramirez,” she says formally. “A pleasure to meet you.”

It occurs to Cass that they’re actually trying to have a light, semi-joking conversation in front of her nephew’s grave. But… for some reason, she actually does feel like smiling. “It’s funny,” she says, shaking Ana’s hand. “He- he talked about each of you, once in a while. And obviously I ran into you four around the restaurant, but I could never keep track of who was who.”

“I blame Fred.” Ana grins again. “He went a little overboard with the ‘everybody gets a nickname’ thing.”

“So… why doesn’t he have one?”

The grin is replaced by a world-weary sigh. “Whenever he’s doing the school mascot shtick, he asks us to call him ‘Fredzilla’.”

That actually gets a laugh- an honest-to-god, real laugh- and Cass can’t help but let it out, because it reminds her of Hiro’s favorite cheesy monster movies, and it’s such a bizarrely perfect fit for the laidback, beanie-wearing hippie who’s always poking fun at his friends, yet, somehow, impeccably polite whenever he’s talking to other customers. Or herself. Tadashi’s friends are continuing to surprise her with their oddly specific quirks.

But the thought worms its way in: _if only Hiro was that excited about… anything, right now._

And Ana must see her face fall, but doesn’t say anything- after a moment, Cass looks away. The graveyard is darker still, and honestly, she hadn’t meant to stay this long. But- strange as it seems- she actually does feel better having someone else here. Someone who… she’s not sure of the sentiment, exactly.

Maybe just someone who ‘gets it’.

“I know… it’s not really my place.” Cass’s heart sinks, because she instantly knows what’s coming. Maybe it was silly to hope she could avoid this conversation. “But… are you…”

Ana hesitates, then turns to face her. “How have you been? Really. If- if you don’t mind.”

She’s so, so tired of answering this question. Customers, even random passersby on the street once in a while- God, she’s taken the tram _once_ since the fire, and it was one time too many, because the well-intentioned questions just kept coming, from people who thought it was somehow their business, and she couldn’t just walk away.

But, if there’s anyone in the entire city who deserves an answer, it’s probably her, right?

She blinks. “Well, it’s… I’m… I think things are…”

Ana waits, and gently touches her elbow. Eventually, Cass breathes deeply and shakes her head, like she’s starting over. “The café keeps everything busy,” she says in a more confident voice than she feels. “And Hiro has his classes, and that’s- that’s getting more and more…”

Her words trail off, and she’s painfully aware that she’s dodging the real question. But, to her immense gratitude, Ana doesn’t press the issue- she doesn’t immediately ask again, or throw out some platitudes that she's heard a dozen times, or anything else. She only waits, and listens.

Briefly, Cass has the thought that Tadashi’s good-natured spirit must have rubbed off on his friends. Or the other way around.

The last mention of Hiro is still in her mind, and the wind moans and whistles through the trees as she struggles to fit the words together. “He’s, um- he doesn’t- I don’t know what to do with him,” she finishes in a rush. She suddenly feels like she _needs_ to say it, to force it all out into the world, into the light, so it doesn’t just sit in her thoughts and whisper to her. “It feels like- every day, he’s just getting more _angry,_ and- I thought I’d be able to help.”

Ana places her hand on Cass’s shoulder, for a moment. She closes her eyes and tries to keep going. “And- and I know how much he’s hurting, but- I don’t know what to do to _change_ that. He wasn’t… Tadashi was _everything_ to him, and he didn’t- he wasn’t really-” Her eyes open again, and she spares a wavering glance towards Ana. “…I think you’re the first real friends he’s had.”

The expression on Ana’s face is one of concern, and sympathy, and Cass is pretty sure there are tears forming in her eyes as well. She wants to continue, to lift it all away from herself so she’s not the only one, and-

It’s so tempting to tell her about Halloween.

The memory grips her like a vice. She buries her face in her hands, and- and she’s not sobbing, yet, but she probably looks like a shaking wreck all the same. “I don’t know what to _do_ ,” she chokes out.

Gently, quietly, Ana starts guiding her- toward one of the benches near the side of the lot, Cass figures. She takes her hands away, blinking back tears so they can both sit down, and once more, Ana places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and for some reason, that only makes the swelling in her heart worse, and Cass feels like she’s being crushed to the point there can’t be anything _left._ “I- it must be terrible, seeing him like that.”

And again, Cass wants to say more. It’s incredible, she thinks- she’s pouring out her soul to someone she barely knows that well. But at this point, she’s too tired to care.

Ana pauses. “…But what about you?”

The words nearly make her jump, like an electric shock. She- she was trying, so carefully, to keep hidden the worst of it all, the deepest and most painful elements of the last months. And now-

Ana’s looking at her, waiting, with that same encouraging smile. As if she just asked something perfectly normal. Maybe, Cass considers, she did.

The sun is hidden, now. The sky is a blank gray with only pockets of twilight blue-black coming through. The chill is biting through her jacket.

Her mouth feels dry. “I miss him,” she says. _So much that it hurts, so much that I catch myself thinking there’s nothing good left anywhere, so much that I have nightmares where I die and the worst part is, in the dream I’m GLAD for it-_ “I, um- I really miss him.” It sounds pathetic and small, but Ana must understand, because she nods like it made perfect sense. “And people keep saying, that- that you just have to give it time. And it’ll get better. And it’s just- it’s _time._ Like- like that’s a good reason to think…”

She can’t finish it, because the words are lost in a haze of frustration and pain, but after a few seconds Ana speaks up. “Like that should be enough to just perk up and be happy all of a sudden?”

Startled, Cass looks up at her. “…Yes.”

She shrugs, and takes her hand away to fold them both in her lap. “Yeah. I had a few professors act the same way.” Ana frowns, gazing at the ground in front of them. “…People want to help. And- sometimes, I think, they’re sure that they have to _do_ something, you know? Like they need to come up with the perfect advice, or find a way to- I don’t know, _solve_ it.”

Every time the breeze picks up, it seems colder and colder. Cass shivers with each gust, but doesn’t consider getting up yet.

“And on some level,” Ana says while fiddling with a button on her jacket. “There’s… nothing to solve. So it doesn’t work, really, and then- I think that’s how people can get frustrated, like ‘Why are you still moping’, and things like that. Like they’re afraid that, if someone’s still grieving, then… they failed.”

…Cass often forgets just how _smart_ Tadashi’s friends are.

Ana glances up at the clouds. “I think it’s important to keep that in mind,” she says in a small voice. “It’s really easy to go into, like, ‘They just don’t understand’ mode, but… people really do want to help. And they’re trying.” Another half-smile breaks through. “My dad didn’t even _know_ Tadashi, really, but… for like a week after the fire, he kept offering to go to my favorite restaurants, and buy me whatever new stuff I wanted, and… I didn’t know how to explain it to him, you know?”

“Then- how _would_ you explain it?” Cass says. Ana leans back slightly on the bench, still looking upward in thought- and Cass is dimly aware that she’s asking a twenty-one-year old for advice on philosophical life questions, but that’s hardly the strangest thing that’s happened in the last few months.

“I think I’d say…” She bites her lip for a second, and Cass is pretty sure her eyes shine a bit. “I’d say there isn’t something he can just _do_ , that will make everything better. And the only thing I really need from him, is something he’s already done.”

Cass tilts her head, waiting for the answer- but Ana blushes a little bit, and she realizes that this is probably getting to be awfully personal. And maybe, since she’s talking about her parents- even kind of embarrassing. She’s about to tell Ana that she doesn’t have to explain any more, if she doesn’t want to-

“He… made it obvious he cares,” she finally says, hunching her shoulders in a way that makes her look like a teenager, reluctant to be fully transparent about feelings. “And that he just wants me to be happy. And- that’s enough, you know? Even if he’s going about it in a dorky way.” She’s looking down again, like that makes it easier to be honest. “Mom, too. They- I think they don’t know what to do, and they’re scared they’re not doing enough, but… honestly, I just need them to be there.”

The sky is nearly covered in gray, now.

…

Cass is overwhelmed by three separate trains of thought. One, that the girl sitting next to her has an awareness and sensitivity towards the people in her life that she wouldn’t expect in _anyone_ , much less someone as young as a college student.

Two, that the idea of ‘just need to be there’ is ringing painfully in her mind. Because if that’s the answer, then… the Hamadas as a whole don’t have a prayer. It’s a darkly ironic, bitter, angry feeling, and she _knows_ that Ana wasn’t trying to say that, but- but the thought is there all the same.

Three, that grief and family and love and understanding are all supposed to be comforting and healing things, but right now they’re scraping at the corners of her mind and laughing and taunting and screaming with Hiro’s voice on Halloween night, and her _own_ voice as she screamed back-

“I’m sorry,” Ana says suddenly, and looks back at her with tears in her eyes, but also with an apologetic smile. “I- I asked about you, and then… I made it all about me.”

She can’t say _anything_. Her words are paralyzed, locked back behind the pulsing, hurting blankness in her chest- and once again, everything seems so _impossible._

“Miss Hamada?” Her smile vanishes, and Ana looks alarmed, now, leaning forward to hold her shoulder. “What is it?”

Suddenly the problem reverses, and she can’t _stop_ the words.

“…But he doesn’t have _them_ either,” she says, and she didn’t _mean_ to- because that sounds like she’s accusing Ana, like she’s arguing, and she didn’t want to do that- but didn’t she? Doesn’t she? “And now Tadashi’s gone, and- and all we have is each other-” _nothing you can do to make it better-_ “But I don’t think that’s enough, because of course I want to help him- but no matter what, he just gets worse, and he gets more angry- and _I’m_ getting worse-”

She isn’t looking at Ana anymore, and she can only assume by the silence that the girl is listening to her in shock. “I’m- I’m angry, too,” she whispers, like she’s wrestling the deepest and worst secret out of the shadows. No matter how much she’d rather keep it hidden. “Sometimes, I’m just- I’m so furious, and-”

The words freeze, and after a moment, Ana’s hand is back on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she says again. “I didn’t mean to say something like- I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I shouldn’t have-” She’s stammering now, but continues on anyway. “And anyone would be angry. That’s okay. You- you know that, right? You don’t have to beat yourself up for that.”

It’s so much colder, than before. Cass is shaking. “No,” she says. “Angry at- at Hiro.”

The hand on her shoulder flinches. Cass can’t bring herself to look Ana’s way. Swallowing, she continues, before she loses her nerve. “And I- I almost hurt him,” she says in a rush. “We were fighting, and- and I think I could- I could have hit him. I- I don’t know if-” She shuts her eyes tight, but it doesn’t help. “I don’t know if I _can_ help him,” she says, just before the tears are going to make it impossible to say anything clearly. “I think I- I can just make things worse.”

The words sound out, and fade into the wind, and- and that’s _it_. She’s not hiding anything else. She fully expects Ana to recoil in disgust, or leap to her feet and start running, or- or call the police, or something.

…

Instead, the hand stays resting on her shoulder.

…

Finally, Ana speaks again. “I’m so sorry-”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Cass demands, jerking her head up to look at her. “Why do you- you act like it’s your fault, or- like you want to feel bad _for_ me, or-” The words die off, and she realizes she doesn’t know what she was meaning to ask; it was simply an outburst, angry and random. She chokes back another sob, and turns away in shame.

“I guess, because... it shouldn’t have happened,” Ana says quietly. “ Any of it. And- because it’s not _your_ fault. Even if, maybe sometimes you think it is.”

But it is.

It _is._

Honestly, she can’t believe Ana is even still talking to her- she’d be perfectly justified in leaving right now, after the way Cass has been treating her. She’s shouting, and angry, and taking out all her problems on someone who doesn’t deserve it in the slightest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, pressing her hands against her face. “I- didn’t mean to say that, I’m-” _Sorry, sorry, that word keeps coming back, for all the good it’s doing-_ “I shouldn’t have spoken like that, and- it wasn’t-”

“Miss Hamada?” Ana cuts her off, but she sounds hesitant and cautious. “Will… um, will you look at me?”

It’s such a polite question, that it catches her off guard. Cass turns to face her, and- and Ana looks her right in the eyes, and says quietly, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise, it’s okay.”

Is she- still talking about the outburst, or-

“This isn’t your fault,” she repeats, almost pleading. “It’s _not_. I hope you can believe that. Maybe not right now, but…”

God, this- it just _hurts_ , like it always does. And now Ana’s looking at her like- almost like Tadashi used to look at Hiro, when he was trying to tell him something important and Hiro would be so stubborn that he wouldn’t accept it, but Tadashi would keep telling him anyway-

“I want to ask you something.”

The statement halts her thoughts, and for a second, she can only blink at Ana. The wind has died down, somewhat, and it’s… quieter. Like everything’s been frozen.

Ana looks more hesitant, now. “Did you… think about it at all? The program, I mean.”

What.

…

The emotions are still there, but Cass is totally lost.

“What… program?” she eventually says, still reeling from the litany of charged thoughts swirling around her mind.

“With the school?” Ana frowns when there’s still no reaction. “Didn’t Wasabi ask you about it? I mean, uh- Gary?”

“No?” she says, so confused that she puts a lilt in the word like a question.

Ana mutters something under her breath in Spanish. Then, “He SAID he was gonna tell you, it was even his idea… I need to have a talk with that boy.” She rubs at her eyes, suddenly looking tired. “No, no… I guess he was probably afraid he might be imposing, or butting in where he didn’t belong, or… something.”

“Um- Ana?” Cass says. “What are you talking about?”

“Right.” With a determined look, Ana turns to her, swinging one leg up on the bench so she can face her more easily. “So- after the fire, SFIT had counselors on site for a while. Mostly for anyone who knew Tadashi, or Professor Callaghan. Basically, just- if anyone needed to talk, or if they were having problems with… what happened, it was free to ask for an appointment. Sometimes people would just walk in, and if there was time available, they could. You know.” She shrugs. “Just talk.”

“Alright.” Cass is pretty sure she knows where this is going, but she listens anyway.

“Then, after it turned out that, uh, this crazy masked terrorist was actually the very same professor we all thought was dead, well… they brought in even more people.” Ana is wringing her hands, now, most of the initial burst of confidence gone. “I think they’ve really helped,” she adds earnestly. Or maybe nervously. It’s hard to tell. “They’re part of the psych department from one of the big state schools, I think. They really know what they’re talking about. And, um. It’s free, obviously. I mean, even if it wasn’t free, it’d probably still be free for you, so…”

She trails off, like she’s realized she didn’t need to keep adding on more information. But the words are important, and in the midst of everything else, Cass tries to focus in on the idea. She… honestly, she hasn’t really thought about- counseling. Therapy. The idea used to seem foreign, somehow- or maybe _weak_ was the better word. As if it somehow made you less of a person.

But, recently… that’s exactly how she’s been feeling anyway. Just- less of herself.

“If you think it could help,” Ana says even more quietly. Like she’s the one who’s afraid of imposing. “I mean, I- I know it helped me to talk to them a few times. So I guess I’m saying _I_ think it would help.”

Maybe there’s another way to look at it. Cass tries to breathe deeply, and think about this rationally. If… if she needs help, and there’s a way to _get_ help, then… wouldn’t it be foolish to ignore it? Didn’t she just admit that she’s thought about hurting Hiro?

The realization makes her stomach churn, and she realizes there’s nothing she can say that won’t seem impossibly stubborn. “I- I’m not sure,” she says blankly, then adds, “I’ll think about it.” She has no idea if she really means the words or not.

“Good,” Ana says warmly. Then, a pause. “Did… Hiro ever mention anything about it?”

No.

No, he didn’t.

Cass shakes her head, trying to ignore how painful it is to think about: Hiro knew. And he never said anything. But… compared to everything else, that seems like the least of their issues.

“Right,” Ana says eventually, and in an instant she's looking at something on her own phone. “I’ll, uh- I’ll just write down-” she trails off into mumbling, and Cass can’t quite hear her, but finally she hands her a piece of paper with a number. “It’s just the front desk of the school, but I’m sure they’ll help you get to the right department. Or… I’ll check tomorrow and see if there’s a different number to set it up.” She hesitates again. “Um. If you want, I mean.”

“That’s fine.” Slowly, she takes the note, then shakes her head and stows it away in her purse. “I- I’ll-” Once more, the words are tied up around her tongue. Ana gives her another smile, and she eventually settles on, “…Thank you.”

It’s quiet, once more. Cass turns with a small shiver- the cold is only going to get more biting, the longer they stay here- and looks forward again, at the stone. And the leaves, and the flowers, and the etched letters that never change, never fade, never come back to life.

Above her, there’s so little sky poking through the veil of clouds.

There’s something a bit beautiful about weather like this. Not quiet, or warm, yet somehow peaceful- as if the sky and the green grass and the sun itself are hidden away, saved for some other time, and the rest of the world is struggling through the cold until the colors come back again. Cass blinks back the last few tears, but can’t bring herself to stand up quite yet.

…It’s a foolish wish, and probably an unhealthy one, but- she just wants to _talk_ to him again. Just once. She just wishes she could ask for his advice, even though she’s supposed to be the adult.

She wonders what he’d say, about all of this. About her.

…

And for the first time, the thought that breaks through is a hopeful one. It’s one that makes her feel stronger, and makes the weight of everything seem lighter.

Cass turns to look at Ana, sitting beside her in quiet solidarity.

_Maybe I already know what he’d say._


	17. November, 3

He only hears about the collapse by random chance.

The earthquake is small- noticeable in most of the city, but not anything more, and the well-weathered public mostly give it a shrug and the occasional huff of annoyance when a picture frame falls. For his part, Hiro barely pauses the music running on his laptop long enough to feel the tremors.

Pretty meager. He sighs and goes back to flicking through three different tabs- one research, one a compilation of notes, and one the current draft of the diagram he’s working on.

Until the itch at the back of his mind grows into a worry, because he can’t just _ignore_ stuff. Not now. Not after these last few months. On a hunch, he jumps over to a news site that usually posts pretty quickly, to see how strong the quake was across the city. Slightly stronger near the coast. Worrying, but not catastrophic.

But after a while, the reports start to pop up. An apartment complex, collapsing in on itself- some kind of faulty construction that’s finally coming apart thanks to the quake. Within a few minutes, Hiro’s able to track down an address for the building, and the accompanying news updates.

The first thing he sees is a bulletin across the bottom of the screen- BUILDING COLLAPSED, TENANTS STILL INSIDE- and it hits him like a punch to the gut. Not just worrying, not just a tragedy- for an instant, he can’t place the other feeling that’s crawling over him.

As soon as his phone starts buzzing, though, he knows what it is.

This is… the kind of thing they’d be working on. That was the plan, anyway. Back before- well, back when he thought the team would be able to do more missions, post-Callaghan. But they- they can’t, right? They don’t have Baymax. They- can’t.

He can’t.

But his phone’s going crazy, and he can’t pretend it isn't. At least there’s the small grace that, since this is serious, Wasabi or Honey changed the names from before. ~~~~

**[]**

**Default Settings**

**-Open Group Chat-**

**[]**

**Go_Go** : guys are you seeing this

 **Fred** : oh man oh man oh man

 **Fred** : this is RIGHT NOW, right???

 **Honey_Lemon** : Hiro, what do you think?

 **Go_Go** : look we gotta hurry

 **Go_Go** : if we’re gonna do something, we better do it now

 **Wasabi** : What, though? What exactly is our plan here?

**[]**

They want to help. Of course they want to help.

It suddenly hits him, that they’re all itching to jump back in- to save people, and use this crazy team he set up to actually help the city, and not just- hunt someone down-

_“-I HAD him-”_

**[]**

**Go_Go** : I could get to fred’s in 5

 **Go_Go** : if we get our suits with the comms, then everythingll go faster right

**[]**

…

And he’s just sitting there, sick, phone in his hand; he can't move. They’re still arguing. He can't move.

**[]**

**Fred** : AW YEAH

 **Fred** : hiro how soon can we get the group synced up??

 **Fred** : for talking over the headsets I mean

**[]**

...

Nothing. He’s just paralyzed. He can’t say anything. He’s- the research is all still in front of him, and… and he’s totally lost.

This is happening _right now._

**[]**

**Wasabi** : I don’t think there’s time! I can get to the mansion as fast as I can, but for all of us to get to the site from there…

 **Wasabi** : I don’t know.

 **Honey_Lemon** : without Baymax, do we have a way of getting there quickly? We can’t exactly take the trams.

 **Go_Go** : for real Hiro whats our plan here

 **Go_Go** : me and fred can probably get there fastest

 **Go_Go** maybe we should just go by ourselves

 **Wasabi** : You guys, absolutely not.

 **Wasabi** : We CAN’T just rush in there without a plan.

 **Fred** : of course we can?? that’s our MO???

 **Wasabi** : We need to be absolutely sure we won’t make this worse.

**[]**

The argument is spinning out of control. Hiro’s trying to ignore it- trying to think of the fastest routes through the city, to figure out if there’s even a chance that they could get there in time, if- if they save time by getting their suits- why did they think it was a good idea to keep everything at the mansion, damn it, he can’t think straight, the phone’s still buzzing, they keep asking why he’s not answering-

He can’t-

But he wouldn’t be able to help anyway, because he’d just sort of stay back and yell advice over the comms- because without Baymax he’s freaking USELESS-

…

…

…

He doesn’t know exactly how much time has passed, but he blinks, and looks more closely at the news feed in front of him. And he finally starts typing.

**[]**

**Hiro** : guys

 **Hiro** : it’s over

**[]**

The evacuation’s finished. A reporter on the scene is saying that emergency workers have already safely gotten everyone out. Part of the building collapsed, and a few tenants were injured. But no one was killed.

Hiro sets his phone down.

…

Already, there’s speculation on the website over whether the city will have the building torn down, or repaired.

…

He glances back to his phone a few times, but seeing his friends’ confused reactions just makes him feel… rattled. They’re as unsettled as he is- the bizarre feeling of being left hanging, even though obviously this is the best possible solution. They’re still trying to get ahold of him, asking questions and- and trying to keep talking to him.

And yeah, there it is- an actual call. Honey, he assumes, and he’s proven right once the ‘answer’ function pops up.

His phone is lying on the desk, so each vibration buzzes it closer to the edge. Hiro doesn’t pick it up.

…It would be one thing if it had ended in disaster. Hell, part of his mind almost expected that to happen- he froze up, and couldn’t think of what to do, and drowned in his own stupid, screwed-up, panicked brain to the point where he literally couldn’t even talk to his friends. It would almost make sense for that to lead to a catastrophe.

Instead, it ended up fine. So the part of him that’s desperately crying out, _“You should have helped,”_ is easily rebuked by the part of him that’s parroting Wasabi’s words back- _“You could have made it even worse.”_

So the part of him that wants to pick up his phone- that part’s defeated, too. And he just watches as his phone slips closer to the edge.

It stops.

‘MISSED CALL’

Feeling a strange kind of numb, Hiro slowly looks back to his computer. The news feed has switched to footage of the building collapsing earlier, side-by-side with an interview of one of the workers who went in to finish the evacuation.

…He shouldn’t be affected by this, he thinks vaguely.

It has nothing to do with him.

So he clicks out of the news report, and scans the three documents in front of him. His phone tries to get his attention once in a while, but he ignores it. It’s time to get back to work.

...

...

...

...

...

...

The darkness is growing.

It’s melodramatic, Cass knows, and she’s not _trying_ to think of it in terms like ‘the darkness’. That just seems to be what her mind comes up with. It works slowly, but can still come out of nowhere- days that should be going well, or nights that should be peaceful and calm, and then suddenly… they aren’t. And she almost can’t think, can’t even keep up a brave smile for Hiro’s sake.

She tries to focus on what Ana said, and what Tadashi would say. But it’s so much easier to picture everything that _Hiro_ said, and… that’s when it all starts to feel like ‘the darkness’.

_just talk to him_

And the other thoughts simply keep growing. Quiet, easy thoughts. Thoughts that don’t seem out of place, most of the time. That she’s failing, somehow; that she has to keep trying to do better. That Hiro’s slipping away. That she’ll never be able to get Tadashi back. That everything will only get worse. That she’s exhausted, and she doesn’t know if she can go on much longer, and…

_just talk to him, help him, be a halfway decent replacement for once, just help him, just TALK TO HIM_

That there might not even be a reason to keep trying.

That’s the one that stops her, just about to lie down to begin the now-hours-long cycle of getting to sleep. Because of course she’s felt… bad, before. The time immediately after Tadashi’s death was the worst, and even though it’s only been a few months, she was at least able to focus her time on the café, and Hiro, and the outpouring of well-meaning friends who provided shoulders to cry on.

Now, most of those well-wishers have moved on. Hiro’s in his own world, most of the time. And no matter how many times she tells herself, _I’m needed, I have people I care about and trust, I can make it through this,_ it doesn’t seem to help.

But she’s supposed to be the ‘guardian’. She’s the adult of the family, the caretaker, the one who made it her mission to raise her two nephews when the unimaginable happened, and-

-and the thought jumps in, pointed and brutal and awful, that she’s _already half-failed, then_ -

-and she can’t afford to be… weak, like this. She can’t be hurting like this. She’s heard people throw around terms like ‘depression’, but surely that’s more serious than this, isn’t it? She’s just struggling with grief. And she… she can’t let herself get too caught up in that. This isn’t the time to call out for help, because _she_ needs to be the one who can _give_ help, now. She has to be stronger. She has to be better.

Which is why it hurts so much that she feels so worthless.

…

And, it’s why she tells herself that this will help.

For the longest time, both her nephews practically lived in the garage; she had to remind them to keep the space clean just as often as she chided them about their bedroom. (And she never bothered parking the van there- it was vastly easier to use the driveway, and besides, it was too broken-down-looking to worry about it getting stolen.) As such, there are still a number of Tadashi’s things littered around the room, from books and a jacket or two on the sofa, to a pizza box stuffed in the corner where the boys had clearly not cared to walk all the way to the wastebasket. They more or less turned it into a workstation, too, especially with Hiro’s project for the Showcase. So the computer by the far wall is like a shrine to those hectic few weeks, with notes and prototypes scattered on the shelves nearby.

She stands in the doorway for a moment.

…This will be a good thing. A step forward, maybe. And remembering him doesn’t have to be painful, right? It shouldn’t be.

It _isn’t_ , she forces herself to think- and then she gets started.

…

She’ll clean up the attic, too. Eventually. She will.

…

More than once, she can’t tell if an item is Hiro’s or his.

…

The menial parts of the task aren’t so bad. Sweeping; taking a garbage bag around the mess and collecting miscellaneous scraps; moving the sofa so it isn’t so difficult to walk through the room.

_moving it from where Tadashi had it set up, when they were going to try to get ready for a video game marathon- and she heard Hiro curse for the first time ever, something about being in first place on the final lap- yelling so loud that she’d heard from the living room- and she threw the door open to see his face go completely white, and Tadashi was laughing so hard he fell off the couch-_

…

She keeps sweeping.

The worst are the school supplies. He did a lot of work down here, so more than a few notebooks and paper packets are piled on counters and shelves, and- she has to gather them up, because she can’t just _leave_ them here, and-

They’re not finished.

She can see where he stopped writing. Stopped studying. Stopped partway through an assignment, because- because he’d be able to finish it over the weekend, or maybe get together with classmates and work on it together-

The papers slip out of her hands, and she can’t bring herself to pick them back up. They’re lying on the sofa, now, splayed out and bent at the corners. Cass leaves them, and focuses on the rest of the room.

Her thoughts are still wandering, trying and not trying to think about anything except Tadashi, and the way the entire garage seems to _scream_ that he and Hiro were always there, always meant to be there- she picks up scraps of paper, books, candy wrappers- and it’s all swirling together, the way everything is so different from a few months ago, and she’s trying to run the café and keep busy with other things, so she isn’t only consumed by thoughts of her family, but it’s so difficult- with Hiro’s anger, and the way he _yelled_ that night, and- and the way there’s a void in the house, only feeling stronger as time passes, so bleak and real and heavy that she swears she can _see_ it-

There’s a newspaper clipping in her hand.

She didn’t notice until she picked it up. Thought it was just some more scraps of notebook paper, from a late-night study session. But she blinks, and- and sees the headline-

Oh.

Oh, no. No, she can’t- she’s going to-

She can feel the thoughts slowly creeping in, dragging paranoia and panic behind them like chains, burrowing through her and crying out _heroes, fighting, danger, villain, professor Robert Callaghan 'of former SFIT academic fame'-_

**_MYSTERIOUS GROUP PREVENTS DISASTER AT KREI INDUSTRIES_ **

She needs to be calm. She needs to be reasonable, and not make any wild assumptions, because- because this is _not_ proof of anything. This article was torn from a newspaper, months ago, and now it’s here in her garage. That’s all. Hiro- likely saved it, and brought it here, for some reason.

That’s all she knows.

It doesn’t prove anything.

But even so, her breathing is uneven and rough- she closes her eyes, trying to muffle sobs, trying not to think about the paragraphs that detail how the mystery heroes _threw_ themselves into harm’s way, leaping from flying robots and battling would-be killers in the sky while some kind of doomsday device ripped buildings from the earth and _she can’t remember WHERE HIRO WAS THAT DAY-_

She can’t make that assumption. She can’t let herself suspect- can’t put the pieces together, because it’s _crazy_ , but it’s seeming more and more plausible every day, and- and what if it isn’t a paranoid delusion, what if she’s _right-_

She opens her eyes. They couldn’t get a picture of the heroes for the article, so the blowup under the headline is a picture of the destroyed buildings, just after the reconstruction projects had started. She remembers, though- news channels had been able to grab grainy, blurred footage for just a second, of a group of fast-moving figures, in brightly colored costumes. One shaped more like a monster, leaping and spitting fire. Three, fairly tall, running and sliding and sending projectiles flying. Another, one that actually flew, built more like an action figure- bulkier than a person could be, and taller as well. And the sixth, shorter than the rest. Almost the size of a child.

Only once, she allowed herself to scour the Internet for information about this strange case. Forums and conspiracy enthusiasts were quick to begin speculating who the heroes were- and they’d really only arrived at two concrete conclusions.

The heroes knew science.

And the leader was the shortest of the group- likely about four feet, six inches tall.

Cass distinctly remembers the automatic thought that flashed through her mind when she read that: _they’re almost right. He’s four foot four._ And the burn of horror at what she’d just imagined, because she hadn’t _meant_ to think that, hadn’t meant to let the unconscious worry slip through even for an instant, connecting speculation to fear to coincidence to suspicion- and Hiro wouldn’t _do_ that, wouldn’t lie to her and hide something like this from her, so- so why can’t she stop thinking about it- why can’t she stop looking at this godforsaken piece of paper, burning in her hand like a death warrant, just a collection of words and a picture of some rubble on a scrap of newspaper, but it feels like it’s tearing her world apart even more than it already is-

What do you do, with this? What’s the right thing?

Her fingers twitch, and it slips from her grasp. It floats jerkily to one side, slipping beneath the sofa before she can grab it again. For a moment, she doesn’t move- simply standing in the garage, she looks down at the spot where it vanished under the furniture.

It’s quiet, out here. She can hear her own breathing: steadier, now. Like nothing’s changed. And she can’t see the paper anymore- she can almost pretend she never saw it. She came in here to clean up the garage, and now it’s finished.

She _can’t_ let herself get caught up in paranoia. Hiro always liked superheroes. He likely thought this was a cool story.

She can’t fall apart.

…

So what _can_ she do?

She remembers a night, from back when they were teenagers- Lee was getting into a big argument with their father, and Cass herself was upstairs, but she could still hear it. Something about staying out too late- she couldn’t make out the details. She’d never heard her brother yell like this. She’d never heard her father sound so serious.

It passed, of course. Normal teenage-rebellion wars of words, that eventually smoothed over in time for joyful, teary-eyed high school graduations. But for some reason, she can still remember that night- and one stern question, asked over and over, sticking in her mind for years and years.

“ _What am I supposed to do? Just tell me that, Lee- what am I supposed to do?”_

He was probably trying to make a point, about how his son was causing all kinds of problems that he couldn’t solve by simply grounding him- or maybe venting his frustration over the simple fact that nothing was breaking through Lee’s attitude problem. But the question morphed, over time, ringing in her ears whenever something impossible stopped her in her tracks, long after they’d both moved out and made all the right amends with their parents- she could still hear it, with the desperation and confusion and pain and bitterness that only seemed to grow louder over time.

Louder when she was standing near two graves, and the preacher fought to talk over the bitter, howling wind.

Louder still at the next grave, in the pouring rain and a huddle of black umbrellas.

_What am I supposed to do?_

She closes her eyes again, and for a second, it’s all pushed away.

_What am I supposed to do?_

She’ll have to choose, eventually. She’ll have to find some way to move forward. God, she’s so sick of hearing that bit of advice- that she’ll be alright, over time, and Hiro will come around, and they’ll _move on._ On some level, she knows that’s just common sense, because people somehow grow and fight through grief- and life goes on.

And the strangest thing is, she honestly believed she’d already been through the worst of it. Two children, three years old and nine- _nine and a half, he’d said with a scowl, when Mrs. Matsuda pinched his cheek and complimented him on his manners, and he squirmed away muttering that he was WAY too old for that, and Cass had to laugh because he was still trying so hard to be polite-_ suddenly thrown into her life without any explanation or assistance, and she was grieving and broken and terrified that she’d raise them wrong, or hurt them somehow, but at least they were all broken the same way and at least they could try to- get through it- together-

At some point, Cass sank down to be sitting on the sofa, and she finally lets the tears start.

…

It still hurts. All of it.

_What am I supposed to do?_


	18. November, 4

The strange thing is, Hiro honestly believed that he’d already been through the worst of it.

It was after the funeral. Somewhere in the time he’d been cooped up in the attic, barely eating or talking to anyone. A moment, lost in the fog of empty days and nightmares, where he thought to himself- that at the very least, now he knew what it was like to have someone die. Now, he wouldn’t take anything for granted. As cynical and bleak as it sounded, he could be… ready. Because it happens to everyone, right? Might as well get used to it.

…

He thought he could be ready. But Baymax-

…

Sometimes he feels like he’s still in the portal. Floating, drifting, no sense of gravity or weight or anything else to ground him- like the entire world’s been pulled out from under his feet, and it doesn’t _matter_ what he thought he knew. It doesn’t matter that this has already happened once before. It doesn’t matter if he’s hopeful, or skeptical, or if he just assumes the worst of everything. None of it matters.

It still hurts, just the same. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

Briefly, he tried convincing himself that he doesn’t care that much about Baymax- mentally repeating that every setback and obstacle in the restoration, is just another reason he shouldn’t even worry if he’ll ever have him back. This is just another robotics project, and there’s not really anything to lose if he fails. Baymax can’t be any _more_ gone than he is now.

_but he can, he obviously CAN, you complete moron, you idiot, you can’t just lie and say this isn’t important-_

“Mister Hamada?”

Sound. His thoughts snap together, all falling by the wayside as he struggles to focus on the present. He’s in class, with the prof staring at him, and the students in front of him are kinda turned to look his way. Some muffled laughter. He can only assume everyone behind him is doing the same. Mouthbreathers.

The more immediate problem is Professor Kapur, not standing anywhere _near_ the lectern in front, so… if Hiro had to guess, he’d say the good doctor has been trying to get his attention for a while, now. He wasn’t sleeping, but it probably sure looked like he was.

In his mind, the different elements of the scenario are, objectively, a bad situation. Interestingly enough, he finds he doesn’t _care._ This is… pretty much the least important thing going on, right now. God, why is he even here? He’s missed this class more than he’s come to it, probably. Not like one ‘present’ mark for the week is going to change anything. He could be getting _actual_ work done.

“Do you want to _try_ answering the question?” the professor asks, sounding somewhat resigned. Like he knows he won’t get anywhere with the attempt. That, at least, Hiro can respect.

Another laugh from the peanut gallery, and his mood turns sour again. “I’d say no, but that probably counts as an answer, doesn’t it?” he says. Again, objectively, mouthing off to the professor? In a class he needs, to continue on with his current semester plan? Not his best idea. But, again. That presupposes that caring is a thing that’s happening.

He gets a few chuckles, at least, and Dr. Kapur sighs. “I do allow drinks during this lecture, Mr. Hamada. And I’m not telling you to flood your system with coffee every class period, but I’m not saying you _can’t_.” Well, what do you know, Hiro’s Applied Engineering class is run by a goddamn comedian. It’s like he’s honestly trying to get the last word in. Huh. “Unfortunately, I can’t accommodate your schedule by moving this class to 2 a.m., so my only other suggestion is to try to get more sleep.”

When Hiro glances to the clock, he realizes that the lecture’s time is just about over- there are students on either side of him already throwing their notes and whatever into backpacks. No wonder Kapur’s been so cavalier with wasting official class time. “Better idea,” Hiro says, when he looks back. “I’ll pick up some of those googly eyes, and just…” He trails off, miming the action of slapping the toys over his eyes. On a whim, he sets his head down on the desk, snoring loudly while keeping his eyes open.

The professor shrugs, clearly in a good enough mood that he’s not bothered. “As long as you’re pretending to pay attention, my fragile ego is satisfied,” he says, and it’s such a bizarre monotone- combined with such a weird thing to say in the first place- that he gets even more of a laugh, while half the class is already heading for the doors. “Thursday will be review,” he says more loudly, not looking at anyone in particular. “We’ll be going over the topics for next week’s test. Same time, same channel.”

As if he hasn’t used that joke a hundred times already. Hiro barely _goes_ to this class, and he still knows that. He glances down at the notebook in front of him- he obviously placed it on the desk at the beginning of the lecture, but he didn’t even open it. Huh. He doesn’t even have a pen or anything. Has he just… been zoned out, for an entire hour and forty minutes?

Someone’s calling his name again. Mechanically, like he’s not really trying to, Hiro moves the notebook back to his backpack. Or- he tries to. It’s… not where he left it?

“Mr. Hamada.”

Oh, no, here it is. Just on the other side of his chair. Ha. He thought he set it down over _here_ , earlier. Weird.

“Mr. Hamada.”

Eventually, he looks up- making sure to take his time before he actually focuses on the figure in front of him. “Can I help you?” he says.

Kapur has his hands in his pockets, which is an awkward look for a college professor. The last few students trickling out of the room glance back, and Hiro once again feels the sting of knowing that they’re _judging_ him. He’s not even thinking it ironically, this time- the stares, the laughs that are half with him and half ‘can you believe this punk-ass nerd’, the way people either slink away from him or literally don’t even see him. It’s back. It’s all coming right back. _Isn’t that nice_ , he thinks sarcastically. Just like old times.

…but, maybe he’s jumping to conclusions. He didn’t feel like this a month ago, did he?

He ignores the thought. Oh, crap, Kapur’s still talking. He must have zoned out again.

“-quite a few times recently,” the professor’s saying, and Hiro halfheartedly tries to remember what they’re talking about. Probably his little daydream escapade, right? Yeah. Or, if not that, maybe they’ll retread the whole “I’m sorry for your loss” thing. That’s a classic. Well, that and the growing sentiment of “Get over it, loser,” that he’s picking up from a lot of his so-called peers.

And now Kapur’s waiting for him to respond.

Hm. Briefly, he entertains the thought of slinging a few more jokes- but, nah. There’s a part of him that wants to revert to Old Hiro- I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better, I really will- and the side of him that’s just _done_ with all this. For God’s sake, he’s been to class like five times. Does Chuckles the Clown over here need more proof that he doesn’t care about this goddamn class?

_(this isn’t me, this isn’t how I think, I’m not- I don’t want to be like this-)_

“Dunno what you want me to say, sir,” Hiro says with a tilt of his head. Standing, he pulls his backpack up so it’s over one shoulder. “I could try to come up with a really, really sincere-sounding apology, but my essay skills are rusty, and I doubt you’d buy it anyway.”

Kapur doesn’t bat an eye at the sass. “Actually, I do have a question for you. And I’d like you to answer honestly.”

“Sure.”

The professor looks at him for a moment. “…What do you hope to gain from this class?”

Good. _God._ That’s literally the most college-y question he’s ever heard. Hiro has to fight to keep from snickering right in front of the guy- they’re like two steps away from talking about their feelings and taking a personality assessment. “Honestly?” he repeats, already gearing up for his next lazy joke.

Then, he stops. “Honestly,” he says quietly. Huh.

…Why not? Not like it really matters, at this point. Besides, he’s too tired to think up anything else. “Alright, yeah. Honestly,” he repeats again. He takes a second to think, glancing down at the desk with a frown.

“…I really, truly don’t care. And, _honestly_ , that’s nothing against you. The rest of my classes are even worse. I have no interest in what we’re discussing, I do not care if I fail next week’s test, and again, to be completely _honest,_ I think this is a waste of your time and mine. But quitting everything would be even more of a hassle.” He shrugs, switching back to the laid-back and light tone he was using before. “...long as we’re being _honest_ , and all.”

Kapur blinks. And Hiro kinda feels good about that, because he finally got Captain Stoneface to finally be surprised, but he also kinda feels like a douchebag, because who feels _good_ about something like that? The emotions combine into a vague blur of self-loathing and apathy, and he mentally smacks himself before saying “Later,” and starting for the exit.

“Mister Hamada,” Professor Kapur says again. With his quick exit foiled, Hiro reluctantly turns back- in time for the professor to hand him a piece of paper. “When you have the chance, I want you to set up an appointment with the guidance counselor.” Hiro must blink and not-respond for a little too long, because eventually he continues. “Consider it a course requirement.”

He looks to the note, then back up to Kapur. “Huh,” he says eventually. “Yeah, I’m… not gonna do that. Sorry.”

“Would you rather fail the class altogether?”

It’s casual, and Hiro has to fight not to use the exact same easygoing tone- _actually, yeah, sounds great._ If at all possible, it would be _really_ wonderful if his brain could dial back the sass right now. And maybe it’s some residual stubbornness from T- from his own pride, but no matter how apathetic he is, he’s not entirely sure if he can just… give up on everything. And flunking would be really freaking embarrassing, honestly.

“Look, Mr. Hamada.” Kapur sighs. “I know that…”

Oh, God, he’s going to do that thing. The thing _everyone_ keeps doing, where they preface some rebuke or complaint with _I know things have been tough since, you know, your brother died and all, but try to pay more attention in class, m’kay?_ He’s glaring at the professor, now, and he has no intention of walking it back and apologizing- not now. He’s not going to be able to.

He almost kind of wants him to say it. He looks at him as if he’s _daring_ him to say it.

Come on.

Just say what you think.

Still thinking, Kapur crosses his arms. “…I know I cannot force you to like this class,” he says eventually. “Or, as you so aptly stated, to even care at all.” He pauses for a second, and Hiro can at least appreciate that he’s carefully choosing his words.

And, also, that he’s genuinely a little surprised.

“Alright. There are two ways of going about this.” Kapur breaks eye contact, moving to gather up some papers on the lectern. “One- I draw up an official record of your… let me see, eight missed classes, and three late arrivals. I tally every instance of- well, let’s call them ‘behavioral incidents’. We drag it through the convoluted and tedious disciplinary process of our beloved administration, and some campus office workers you’ve never met decide if your grand prize, at the end of the day, is strikes on your transcript… or suspension. Most likely for the semester, or the year.”

What.

What the hell.

“Two-” Professor Kapur hesitates for a moment, now that the supplies are compiled neatly into one stack. He places them in a satchel, then lifts it over his shoulder as if he, too, is about to leave. “You take Thursday’s class off,” he says. His voice is a bit gentler. “I email you the lecture notes, and you visit the guidance counselor instead. And you can discuss what you’d like to do next.”

…Seriously, what the _hell._ “Next?” Hiro repeats, although that’s only one of his questions.

Kapur shrugs. “You said it yourself, Mr. Hamada. If you don’t want to attend classes- if you don’t want to attend this school- you shouldn’t have to. Or, perhaps, you’re no longer _sure_ if you want to, or not.” He looks back at the empty lecture hall, for a second. “And I believe,” he says, “answering that question, now, matters more than any lecture I can give you.”

…He’s absolutely lost. He was ready to _fight_ this guy- verbally, of course. He was ready for another blowup, with dramatic declarations and more mistakes that he could feel shitty about at the end of the day. Now, though, it’s like the rug’s been swept out from under him yet again- he can’t get mad at him _now._ This just isn’t fair. “I’ll… think about it?” He doesn’t mean the words to curl up their sound, like a question. It just seems to happen.

“I hope you do,” the professor answers. Then he walks past him. He actually _walks past him_ , then out the door, like this wasn’t even a big deal. Hiro is now alone in this giant lecture hall.

…

He looks down at the note in his hands.

He suddenly feels very, very foolish.

It persists all the way across campus, where he finally gets to the office building with the… actually, he has no idea what’s in this one. A lot of official academia things, he always assumed. And, apparently, a guidance counselor’s office.

He kind of hoped that he wouldn’t be able to find it. But, yeah, there’s a sign right next to the door. Mission accomplished.

…Damn it.

This particular hall isn’t too crowded. He’s not in anyone’s way. There’s no hurry. But no reason to wait here, either. Just… go in, and set up the appointment for Thursday. He can do it. It’ll be easy.

He scuffs his shoe against the floor.

Easy. Wouldn’t take a minute. Just- give them the paper, and mumble the explanation, and set up the time. This should be _easy_. He doesn’t even have to go to class next Thursday.

…should be easy.

Hiro doesn’t move, and he doesn’t look away from the door.

…

He spends a moment trying to identify the feeling. It’s… Huh. Probably the best way to put it would be: an overwhelming sense that this doesn’t matter. This doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need help.

Not because he’s okay- he’s not stupid enough to think everything’s fine.

He doesn’t need help, because there _is_ no okay.

The thought puts some fire in his motions, and he quickly steps back and turns- about to walk purposefully down the hall, and out of the building, and to the tram stop. This was stupid, he finds himself thinking again. It was all so _stupid._

That’s all the further he gets before colliding with someone.

The guy grunts, and Hiro half-expects him to be pissed, or at least to glare his way. College students are usually a bit more reserved, though, and instead there’s a muttered ‘sorry’ that’s just about as quiet as the apology he offers back, before quickly moving away.

“Oh, hey, look who it is!”

Hiro doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t stop walking. Guy’s probably talking to someone else.

“Kapur’s class, right? It’s the man himself!”

…Okay, he’s talking to him. But whatever. That’s fine. Sounds kinda like the douche-bro type who thinks he’s funny, but isn’t quite a bully, exactly. Best to ignore them. He keeps walking.

“Jokes! Come on, man, don’t be like that!”

Now, Hiro does stop.

And- this really comes out of nowhere, to be honest- he suddenly pictures his brother, standing in the crowd, on the night of the Showcase. Holding up his hands- _Breathe._

He breathes.

“So, did prof give you, like, a lecture about listening when he’s giving lectures?” the guy says, almost cheerfully. Hiro has no idea if he’s antagonizing him, or if he genuinely thinks he’s being funny and reaching out. “And if you didn’t listen to _that_ one, he’d just have to give you another lecture about _that,_ and…”

Hiro can’t explain where the anger comes from, exactly. He’s daydreamed on occasion about what would happen, if a day of classes went exceptionally badly- someone badmouthing Tadashi, or needling him about the Showcase, or trying to throw him in one of the trashcans high-school-style. For the most part, though, that hasn’t really happened.

His fingers curl together, and he swears he can hear his heart beating. Tensed up. His skin is buzzing like electricity.

“Alright, alright, sorry- I won’t call you Jokes, if you want.” The guy’s standing off to his side. Hiro could look over at him, and see who he is. Maybe he’ll even recognize him. Or remember the guy’s name.

Maybe he’ll talk to him, even. Maybe they’ll be friends.

“Your name’s Hiro, right?” In the corner of his vision, he sees the guy reach out a hand. “I’m-”

…

…

…

It’s funny, Hiro thinks in a brief second of lost time. He probably _is_ just trying to be friendly. Hell, he’s even introducing himself.

Hiro pulls back, turns, and punches him in the face.

Things from there get pretty hazy. Nameless Guy stumbles back, probably more from shock than from the punch, and loses his balance when he hits the a chair near the wall, so he ends up on the ground- someone’s yelling, and there are almost definitely people coming out of the guidance office. Yeah, there they are- one of them’s demanding something of him, asking a question about whatever, and another one grabs his shoulder- he doesn’t need to bother, because it’s not like Hiro’s planning to start swinging at everyone in the vicinity. In fact, most of the buzzing, tense energy is gone- he just blinks a few times, looking in Guy’s direction, vaguely thinking that it was kinda funny how he fell.

Campus security, maybe? Or more likely, just one of the office workers. They’re still talking, but Hiro’s pretty much tuned out. The hand on his arm is pulling him down a stairway and through a few more halls, probably for- some kind of reprimand. Suspension? He has no idea. Idly, he wonders if Guy ended up with a bloody nose.

Also, he realizes that he hasn’t been dragged away and marched to an office since… high school.

Hah. Not that different, after all.

…

…

…

The dean’s still talking. God damn, this guy can really eat up time. How is he not tired? Hiro blinks a few times, himself feeling pretty worn-out.

Actually, wait, this guy’s not the dean, is he? Probably someone’s assistant or something. Shit, he can’t remember exactly whose office this is. Even if he could, he never really kept track of official employee titles in the corrections-and-disciplinary-actions department of the school. In fact, he just made that up- that’s probably not a real department.

Good God. Still talking.

He’s… bored.

_~~this is wrong this is bullshit it’s terrifying~~ _

_~~should feel bad should feel remorse should feel SOMETHING~~ _

Yeah, that captures it pretty well. Just bored.

Most of the lecture goes in one ear _ashamed, disgraceful- ~~unbelievable~~ \- ~~“What would Mom and D-”~~ _and out the other. They’re gonna figure out the logistics of it all later, he’s told. For now, he should head home.

…That seems like an alright idea.

He’s on the afternoon tram, one of the open-air ones, a hand on the railing while he stares at the people on the streets, and nothing’s actually wrong. He feels okay. The world around him looks normal, and he, like… his senses are fine. He almost expects to feel like things don’t look the same, or sound the same, but no. Everything’s perfectly alright.

Just for a minute, he thinks of the guy he punched. Never actually caught his name. Probably got him a bruise. Maybe messed up his nose. He doesn’t know.

_Nothing Baymax couldn’t take care of._

His hand grips the rail tighter.

…God, when was the last time he actually got in a _fight?_ Well, not a fight, exactly- but even a punch like that. It has to have been, at least- yeah, back in high school, probably. A few years ago.

…

He called him ‘Jokes’. And he was about to introduce himself. And then he just… dropped. So surprised, that he couldn’t even keep himself from falling.

Hiro closes his eyes.

Part of him realizes, that he’s- well, he’s getting worse. He knows it. He’s different, more angry and hostile, and- and sometimes he feels like an animal, trapped or starving, or- it doesn’t make sense- like he _has_ to snap and bite at anyone who comes near, because what else can he _do_ -

...No. Not ‘different’. He’s not getting worse.

He’s going back. He was that way before all of this, too- back in high school. It’s almost like reverting back to the old Hiro. The real Hiro. Maybe, deep down, this is just who he is.

For some reason, even that thought doesn’t worry him, anymore. It just seems… unnecessary. Like he should be focusing his time and effort on- yeah, in fact, if he’s being objective about this, worrying about anything else is silly. And a waste of time.

He should be concerned with Baymax.

He’s been kind of an idiot about this whole thing, hasn’t he? Thinking about guidance counselors, and arguments with Cass, and seeing every millisecond of the punch replayed in his memory- turning, raising his fist, contact, seeing the guy fall backwards- when none of that really matters that much.

Hell, he doesn’t even have all the raw materials he’ll need for Baymax. And there’s still the next step, in implementing the research- towards a second draft of the dummy code. He’s been wasting _so much time._

The chip and AI obstacles, are so much more important than freaking _college._ What was he thinking? He’ll do the bare minimum of work, to still be allowed to use the labs. Other than that, none of it matters. Classes- when he feels like it, and when he’ll need to get everyone off his back about attendance. Assignments- again, when he feels like it.

Counselors? Hell. That’s a joke. He takes the paper out of his pocket- he kind of forgot it was there. Staring down at the blank lines, he sees where he was supposed to write his name and appointment time, as well as get a signature from whoever was in the counselor’s office.

It’s just a piece of paper. He jams it back in his pocket, scowling.

…It doesn’t _matter._

The air’s getting colder. He shivers against the breeze, still gripping the rail tightly. The thoughts don’t bring any satisfaction, or resolve. He just feels… cold.

Briefly, he wonders if maybe he’s going too far.

…No. Not if it’s for Baymax. And the thought hits, unexpected, he doesn’t _want_ it, can’t avoid thinking about it-

_-“I will”-_

_-floating, staring, crying, “-what about you?”-_

_-“always”-_

_-holding him close, because he may never see him again-_

_-“be with you”-_

Hiro bites his lip, and it’s a distraction. Thinks about the cold. What he’ll need to do next, for his research.

…He doesn’t have time for this.

So the rest of the ride is focused. Almost lost in thought- he still hasn’t made much progress with the infrastructure of the chip, itself. It’s simply too advanced. He genuinely doesn’t know how to fix it, yet. An AI, and one with a specific personality, motivation, and set of goals… it’s infinitely more complicated from a tech standpoint, than a robot you can control with buttons and a joystick. But at least the work _is_ started, now. He can do this. He just needs to buckle down.

He’s not sure how much of his work is one-hundred-percent correct, of course. So he can’t- he can’t test any of it, yet. That’s simply not an option. It’s too risky.

Soon enough, he’s stepping down onto the curb, and then glancing up at the exterior of the café, and then tromping up the steps towards the kitchen and living room.

Cass is right in front of him.

He doesn’t stop walking. God, he just doesn’t _care._ She calls his name once, then again, but he can’t stop thinking that _it doesn’t matter._ She’s going to argue, and he’ll scowl and get angry and say ‘whatever’ a lot, probably, like the shitty stereotypical teenager he is, and nothing will change.

Because none. Of this. Matters.

“-at me when I’m talking to you!” It’s a half-yell, sort of, but nothing like Halloween. She grabs his arm, and he turns to face her, and-


	19. November, 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I didn't have time to proofread this chapter, and since I'll be busy tomorrow morning/afternoon as well, I thought it'd be best to post it now. I'll look through the chapter more closely tomorrow evening, and fix typos as needed. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading.
> 
> (Warning: themes of severe depression, suicidal thoughts)

She _sees_ him, and sees how blank his eyes are. Like he’s already half-asleep, or like his mind is anywhere but here in front of her. And maybe it’s just because she hasn’t talked to him face-to-face in a while, or maybe he’s just tired, but… she can’t avoid the thought that he looks like a ghost. Pale, and sullen eyes, like there’s nothing in the world he cares about.

Good Lord.

When did this…

Hiro shrugs her hand away, but not with any force. He’s looking down at the floor, now, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed, or uncertain, or anything else. He just looks like-

“Hiro,” she says one more time. “Are you listening to me?”

-like he’s just waiting for her to stop talking. Like he has nothing to say, and nothing he cares to hear.

This isn’t her nephew.

It’s an awful, awful, _awful_ thought- _how could you think something like that, what’s wrong with you, you’re falling apart-_ but she tries her best to dismiss it, push it away, just like she pushes away the growing sensation that she can’t do anything to make this right.

“…Hiro,” she repeats. “I- I already spoke with the school.”

Nothing.

“They weren’t even bullying you. Is that true?”

He just stares at the floorboards.

“I was told,” she continues, trying not to let her voice betray how on-edge she is, “that a student was simply talking to you, and then you punched him. No one said anything about him provoking you.”

Hiro isn’t even looking at her.

“Is that what happened?” she says, and she tries to say it loudly, forcefully, but it doesn’t matter- he doesn’t care- she doesn’t have the energy, anyway, and it sounds weak and broken and _useless-_

“Yeah.”

…

Finally, he glances up. And lifts one shoulder, again. As if to say, _that’s what you wanted to hear, right?_

She can’t think. She can’t remember what she was going to say, next. She doesn’t know.

What’s she supposed to-

“I’m just… gonna lie down,” he says, and it’s so quiet she can barely hear the words. Then he shifts, and starts moving- so slowly, with no purpose or motivation- until he’s walking up the stairs, one by one.

She should call him back, shouldn’t she? This isn’t- this conversation, it’s not- she has to-

…He’s nearly at the top. And Cass sees him stop for a second, and reach into the pocket of his hoodie. A piece of paper. He seems to think about it for a second, and then, quietly rips it into five or six pieces, letting them fall on the steps behind him.

…

It’s happening again, isn’t it? Just like a few years ago. The fights, the grades, the attitude- God, he’s _fourteen_. Even in the numb worry and faded heartbreak, she can feel a stab of pity, because the world has thrown so much at him, and then demanded that he meet the expectations set for _college_ students, who’ve had an extra four years to figure out their lives; and on top of that, he has to shoulder the weight of every ‘You’re so smart’ and ‘You’re going to do great things one day’ and ‘Get outta my way, loser,’ and ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’-

He’s gone. He’s vanished into the attic.

…Cass is used to the helpless, overwhelming feeling of _what do I do?_ But now, she feels like that dark cloud is covering Hiro, just the same. They’re supposed to pretend they’re a normal, healthy family. Like they’re okay.

Like that will fix anything.

And there’s nothing _to_ do, but drink some water, and sit down, and- and try not to think- about who brought him out of this, last time, during the high school phase, who convinced him to get his act together and _try_ , who actually knew how to help him, _who was the one person who COULD help him-_

It doesn’t work. Despite her best efforts, she just keeps… thinking. That’s nothing new, but now- in addition to the thoughts when she’s working, when she’s trying to fall asleep, when she sees Hiro skulking up to his room, when Tadashi’s friends enter the café (joking, laughing, but with more tired smiles and less often than before- _or is she just imagining it)_ \- now there’s another hurdle to deal with.

Because now, suddenly, she finds herself sitting in an official-looking office, the phrase ‘discuss your nephew’s recent behavior’ making her heart sink.

He’s a special case, when it comes to academics. Most students wouldn’t need to have a guardian involved- however, the only fourteen-year-old freshman in the university’s history has a different set of paperwork. Custom, in fact. More echoes of Hiro’s high school days, when there had been no shortage of visits to the principal’s office. Cass had been naïve enough to think those particular struggles were finished.

Fighting. _Fighting._ A scrawny, messy-haired, voice-still-breaking kid, randomly taking a swing at a sophomore Engineering major and showing ‘no signs of remorse’, as the dean’s assistant sitting behind the desk tells her. And the punishment is… complicated. Because Hiro is, again, a ‘special case’. What do you do with the student whose brother died on campus, who already lost his parents- and who’s showing up to his classes less and less, and also, who might be one of the smartest people in the building? And ALSO who’s having anger issues? And who has, so far, steadfastly refused to see the free-of-charge counselors on staff? And who’s at least four years younger than everyone around him?

The situation is awful enough. The real twist of the knife hits when she realizes that, to a point, it’s _familiar._

And another awful thought, so strong that she can’t immediately answer the last question she was asked; it’s almost like Hiro’s reverting to the way he used to be. Like now that Tadashi’s gone, he just- he’s flailing, and falling backwards, more and more until- what? Until he loses his grip on reality, and hurts someone? Or hurts himself? Until he simply breaks?

Or… until _she_ does, maybe.

It’s another wildly unhelpful thought that she can’t get out of her head. Floating around in whispers, never at the front of her mind, just- waiting, almost, like a predator in the grass. And she finds herself driving home, from the school, but she can barely remember walking out of the office and getting to her car.

…

…

…

She wonders if there’s a way to stop thinking about it.

It’s so hard to pin it down, because part of the dark, jeering, tangled mess of thoughts has _always_ been there. Or at least, for eleven years. And usually she can fight it down, can focus on the other things and put on a smile and run a bakery and all the little moments and places that give life meaning, and all that jazz.

Usually.

But sometimes they’re so intertwined with memories that she can’t tell which is which, and you can’t stop yourself from remembering any more than you can stop yourself from thinking, right? So she remembers, but it feels more passive, like something else is doing the remembering and she’s forced to sit through it all over again.

When the two of them were arrested, the following evening was… tough. Of course, she chattered and ranted about how they were turning her hair gray, and how she never expected to need to know _how to raise one teenager, let alone two, thank you very much._ But that was mostly bluster, and she was mostly relieved they were both alright. They both knew it, too, under the sullen glances and bruised earlobes. At the end of the day, they were safe; she was sure of it, through and through.

Until Tadashi furtively let her know he was taking Hiro to visit his college, and the two of them sped away into the night once again.

The café was quiet, then. And she busied herself with cleaning, with stocking some of the inventory for the following morning, for going over the event schedule for the week- nothing except some kid’s birthday party in a few days, and there was still that guitar player who wanted to perform Thursday night, but he hadn’t gotten back to her yet- and tried not to listen to how silent it was.

…

She was a poor excuse for a guardian.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought was changing. It had been something of a joke, once, or at least a wry observation- what kind of situation had life thrown her into, anyway? Suddenly looking after two energetic, bright, dynamic boys who seemed like they could rebuild the world if they wanted to. She always tried to see it as a kind of _aw shucks, I’m just doing my best_ type of thing.

It didn’t feel like a joke anymore. And it was harder and harder to forget the raw, unflinching pain that still surfaced whenever she thought about Lee Hamada, the kindest, most patient, most steadfast brother a person could ever ask for- and Kayla, wide-eyed and inquisitive, with a razor-sharp wit and an unstoppable drive to learn everything she could, whom she’d bonded with immediately, feeling more like a sister with every passing day, whispering to Lee _she’s a good one, don’t screw this up_ and giggling when he turned red and ruffled her hair, like he’d always done since the two of them were kids-

Then, suddenly, they were gone.

And instead of them, Hiro and Tadashi had… her. Just her.

She wasn’t ready, of course. She could never have been ready. Although- maybe she should have been? Maybe there was a way to be more prepared, to avoid the mistakes, to guide them through life without all these bumps and growing pains. Every parent always told her there were troubles along the way, but… they’d been _arrested._ And there, in that empty house, she suddenly felt more sure than ever- not a joke, now, not a memory, but a thought that lurked in the darkness of her mind and only ever emerged at night- that she was failing them. Both of them.

No. She was… really, she was failing all four of them. She was letting them all down.

Then Hiro tried to get in the school, and suddenly she could see Tadashi looking at him with such pride, such fondness, and _of course_ she felt the same, of course she was ecstatic and supportive and as proud as anyone could be. But it didn’t stop the thoughts slipping through.

_Tadashi helped him._

_He’s the one who made the right decisions._

_He’s the one making them proud._

She didn’t listen, because she knew it wouldn’t do any good- and besides, everyone had bad days, right? And they were just thoughts. Even if it was tougher to look in the mirror sometimes, even if baking and running the restaurant seemed more… difficult than usual. Even if she sometimes snapped out of her reverie to realize one of the boys had asked her a question three times.

She was okay. They were okay.

And then.

…

Suddenly.

…

It felt like getting the call. The one she would remember for the rest of her life, haunting in the background for eleven years, from a tired and trying-to-sound-sympathetic secretary of the hospital across town, using generic words like _accident_ and _unknown_ and _next-of-kin_. She hung up after _urgent._

It took twenty minutes to get there. The doctors told her both ‘patients’ had passed away after ten. She couldn’t even tell them goodbye.

They were so smart, so successful, so kind, so tragically young and eager to take on the world- and then, they simply got into a car, and… gone.

Years passed in a moment, and then she was _there_ again- far too quickly- racing through the university, with news alerts, then emergency broadcasts, then frantic texts and calls and voice mails to both of their phones, and she was already running as fast as she could- and Tadashi’s friends, the group that brought the equipment to the showcase, they were arguing over where to go, which building, how to get there as fast as possible- and if Tadashi said where exactly they were going- and _I think his phone’s turned off- Oh my God- what else did they say about the fire- Hiro’s phone is just going straight to messages- where are they-_

And then she was in front of the building.

Police. Fire. Ambulances.

Hiro, sitting with a bottle of water while emergency workers rushed past him and up the marble steps, still fighting the blaze, still looking to pull anyone out who’d been trapped-

The word _trapped_ , echoing over and over in her mind, and she didn’t know anything for sure, but that made it worse-

Hiro, looking up at her with eyes she’d never seen before-

…

She was holding him close, crying, asking over and over _where is he, where’s your brother, are you okay, are you alright-_ and he never said a word.

…

They told her no body was recovered.

…

Hiro didn’t say anything for days.

…

Life goes on.

That’s what they say, right?

A black hole, a mess of mornings and nights and everything else, time alone and time in quiet and empty days, and the funeral, and finally opening the café again- and coffee and pastries, music and TVs playing in the corner, receipts and- _October is such a nice time of year in the city, don’t you think,_ and she smiled, because Mrs. Matsuda still came by every morning and wanted to talk about the cherry blossoms two streets over- and waking up and walking downstairs and opening the restaurant and closing the restaurant and buying groceries and balancing the books and cleaning and cooking and- and Hiro was as silent as the grave. It was an awful image, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

And she misses him, as much as she missed Lee and Kayla, as much as it hurts watching Hiro stare out the window with eyes that seem blind, going up to the attic and replacing untouched plates of food, listening to friends and well-wishers who don’t realize that they’re not helping because nothing’s helping, trying to sleep, trying not to dream, not looking at the picture on the wall of the landing, of the camping trip, of the three of them, trying not to think about how he’s _gone_ , in an instant, in an evening, one spark of time and suddenly the world is different, and Hiro is different, and she’s- she’s not different, but she’s the same as she was back _then-_

But she didn’t have a choice. She _had_ to pull through, for Hiro. She told herself, day in and day out, that she couldn’t give in to despair, because right now, she was the only one who could be there, be his aunt, be his- _oh dear God_ -

-last living family. She couldn’t fail. She couldn’t fall apart.

She could do this.

…She got through it last time, right?

…

_You’re letting them down._

_…_

_You could NEVER live up to them._

_…_

_You failed them._

_…_

_THEY’RE not the ones who deserved to-_

That one stops her, even through the haze, but… is it really that strange? Some part of it, some piece of the misery and self-loathing has been there from the beginning, hasn’t it? And maybe it really would be better.

Then Lee would be here. He’d know how to deal with Hiro’s recklessness and attitude.

Then Kayla would be here. She’d be able to _talk_ to Tadashi about the things he loved, the world of science that Cass could never fully be a part of.

And Cass would be-

…

Sure, they would have missed her, for a while. But… maybe it would have been better all around.

Maybe Tadashi would… still be…

…

There’s a small voice in her mind, urgently whispering that she can’t blame herself for that, something _no one_ could have stopped, something that had nothing to do with her- but it’s quiet, and everything else is so much louder.

What kind of aunt lets her nephew die?

What kind of _person_ lets family die?

_“-you ever say something like that-”_

It’s been months. She’s not getting better. The fight with Hiro echoes loudly, every time she passes the stairs to the attic.

It’s been months. She’s not getting better. There are days when all the hurt and longing and despair is deeper and harsher and more debilitating than she can ever remember- and there are days when she doesn’t feel anything at all. She doesn’t know which is worse.

It’s been months. She’s…

…

She’s tired.


	20. November, 6

_And I know you don’t want to talk to me, either. I get it. Believe me, I’m not expecting us to be pen pals or something._

**…**

**…**

**…**

November moves along.

He’s not stupid. He knows he could go too far if he’s not careful. A day comes to mind, lifetimes ago, when Tadashi accused him of being ‘obsessed’ with something- so to prove him wrong, Hiro came up with a thoroughly-researched report on the science of obsessive behavior, complete with powerpoint slides, peer-reviewed academic articles, and a comprehensive bibliography so organized that his high school professors would have _wept_ to see him put in this much effort purely for spite.

(Looking back, he realizes he may have overreacted. Spectacularly. Tadashi’s exact words were, “If you don’t see the irony here, I won’t be the one to explain it.”)

The point is, he knows that he can get too wrapped up in something. He knows he can let it grow, and grow, until it shoulders everything else out of his thoughts and his waking days, and he also knows that this wouldn’t exactly be considered ‘healthy’.

So it goes that he finds himself in the garage, with nothing but a faintly blue screen and the quietly humming computers giving life to the world around him, and when he looks past the three or four open tabs with labels like ‘Advanced Coding Templates’ and ‘The Science of AI Recreation’ to see the corner of his screen, he doesn’t know which is the bigger revelation: that it’s already 3:48 AM, or that it’s apparently Sunday, not Friday.

Well, Saturday. He thought it was Friday, and that it would be Saturday now that he’s long past midnight. What the hell happened to Saturday?

He blinks a few times, and realizes that he’s been scrolling down one of the open articles for the last few seconds, and now the relevant information has totally disappeared in a mire of ‘related subjects’ further down the page. What was this one even about? What was… what was he actually looking for, just now?

He pushes the chair back from the desk, slapping at his face a few times. Cass halfheartedly asked him not to stay up too late, around… yeah, that was about four and a half hours ago. _How’s that for some irony,_ he thinks dully, and then, _No, not really, that’s not irony, that’s just being an idiot._

He’d ignored her completely. Although- no, he must have been paying attention, because he can picture the resignation in her voice, like she had no expectations at all. A stab of guilt- but he blinks, and the feeling vanishes.

Really, what had she been expecting?

The wheels squeak when they roam across the concrete floor. He’s always meant to fix that. But random little things like that are falling through the cracks more and more, it seems like. And that brings him back to the main problem- the one that’s nagging at the back of his thoughts, keeping him from throwing himself completely into his work.

Obsessed. He developed a database of nearly every botfight in the city, once upon a time, even the covert ones.

 _Obsessed_. He devoted every waking moment to building those microbots, over the span of entire weeks.

And then, of course, he became completely consumed by the idea of tracking down the man in the mask, and turning his friends into superheroes, and…

_“-we said we were gonna-”_

He shudders. A few yards away, the screen is the only light in the garage, so it seems to pull his focus in like a black hole.

Anything can be taken too far, right?

There’s a sick, squeamish feeling in his stomach, and for the first time in a while, he tries to remember what he actually ate today. He’d grabbed something before class, right? Sort of a ‘screw everything’ celebration donut. And he’d worked through lunch, because he was nearly on the verge of a breakthrough with Baymax’s voice modulator, and… when he’d come home, he’d gone straight to work, so… no, shit, he’s thinking of yesterday. So what did he…

God, he feels tired. But he can’t stop looking at the screen. Slowly, eventually, he rolls the chair forward again.

At one point, Cass tried to put the back of her hand on his forehead, and he bristled and pulled away while she asked him if he was feeling alright. What did he say, though? She… she brought up sleeping, again. He’s pretty sure. She reprimanded him about that. She… _probably_ said that. Because she _always_ says it, that it’s really important to make sure you’re getting enough sleep, and he… How did he answer?

How’d that conversation end?

For a minute, he’s frozen, fingers hovered over the keys, and his other hand has already guided the marker through three pages to get to the university website he’s looking for- one of the only ones he’s found that has any information at all regarding AI corruption and restoration. He’s two paragraphs in before he remembers what he was worried about.

…He’ll just have to be more careful.

Yeah, that’s it. He’ll be alright. If he stops making dumb excuses, and being a complete idiot half the time, then - it’ll work out. All he has to do is _IT’S TAKING TOO LONG_ keep his head down, and take it one problem at a time _JUST KEEP SCREWING EVERYTHING UP, BECAUSE THAT’S ALL YOU CAN DO_ until he’s able to _NOTHING LIKE HIM_ get what he wants. No big deal.

He’s smart, and he has Tadashi’s advice, and on top of all that, he’s doing all this for the best reason he’s ever had. Baymax is worth it. Everything else is pretty much secondary.

For a second, he slips into wishful thinking- that he can take a break, and rest, and maybe even see the others tomorrow, at some point, instead of focusing all his energy on-

…No. Absolutely not.

Inefficiency isn't going to help anyone. There's no _point_ in wasting any time. Any more time. Fuck. His head is aching. But he can't... he can't use his friends as a distraction.

_Besides, they’re not really your fr-_

Hiro blinks.

…Besides, he’s actually making some headway on the text program.

Yeah. That's it. He's making progress, and- and that's worth giving all his attention. It's the right call.

He’ll be fine.

…Hah. That’s a laugh.

He rubs his eyes again, and breathes deeply, and starts in on the wall of text in front of him.

…

…

…

…

…

…

November moves along.

Cass Hamada wakes up, and begins the day. The café is the usual level of busy, and she’s kept occupied by training newbies, keeping track of the books, and managing the day-to-day operations.

At some point, she herself takes the time to eat. She doesn’t really remember it.

She doesn’t see Hiro on his way out the door- just the back of a drawn-up hoodie, hunched shoulders, and a backpack that bumps against the doorway as he leaves. He probably won’t be back till late, after the restaurant’s closed. It’s only minutes later, when he’s long gone, that she suddenly wonders if she shouldn’t just let him slip away like that. Not a word.

Mrs. Matsuda draws her into a conversation about which tram routes are more efficient. She can’t recall much of it, after the lunch rush dies down.

Nicki can manage the lobby for a few hours before people start arriving for dinner, so Cass takes the time to get some rest back in the house. She feels like she’s been needing more sleep, recently. Probably just mild exhaustion from the stress of the recent weeks. Nothing to worry about.

She’s startled out of unsettling dreams by the alarm she set- and it’s suddenly five in the evening, and she needs to get down there as quickly as she can, even though she doesn’t feel like she’s gotten a wink of sleep.

Nicki is trying not to lose her cool with a customer, who’s absolutely irate over getting the wrong kind of soup; a few early diners are already seated, and by the time Cass gets control of the situation, Nicki’s frustrated because her replacement was a half hour late, there aren’t enough staff manning the lobby, there are half a dozen customers who’ve already been waiting for ten minutes, and Cass doesn’t even _know_ where Ethel is-

So she takes each problem as it comes, and lets the storm of busy work pass. A month ago, she would have been panicked, frazzled, tired, and ultimately satisfied once the crisis was resolved.

…

She accidentally hands Mr. Miyato a receipt instead of his credit card, and takes a good ten seconds to figure out what’s wrong.

…

Hikari is sick, so she can’t make her shift at all.

…

Ethel arrives, and Cass is halfway through a lecture before Ethel interrupts, confused, because… that’s right, her shift wasn’t supposed to start until now. Cass had the times mixed up. She apologizes.

…

_None of this matters, does it?_

…

Someone sets the jukebox to play the same song multiple times in a row. Eventually, complaints force Cass to shut down the machine for the night.

…

Hiro still isn’t back.

…

People trickle out over the evening; there’s no special event planned for tonight, so the crowd is smaller than usual. She sends the part-timers home.

…

She finds the scarf, again, from weeks ago- where she left it under the register. Was that lady here, tonight? She can’t… really remember. She’ll have to give it back, next time she sees her.

…

Eventually, the café is empty. Ethel’s just finishing up bussing the last couple tables.

…

“-okay?”

She blinks, startled. “What was that?”

“I asked if you’re doing okay.” Ethel squints at her, still holding the spray bottle. “You seem… out of it.”

Of course. Of course she couldn’t fool everyone. Why even try?

Cass pauses, then gives her a non-answer about being tired, and just thinking about some things, and thanks her for her concern-

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

It’s thrown out there with the same usual bluntness she’s seen before, but somehow it’s still surprising. But the shock fades, and there’s just… nothing. Cass can’t even focus on the question. It doesn’t bring up thoughts, or feelings, or anything at all. She’s blank.

“It’s fine if you don’t.” Ethel shrugs, and goes to finish the last table. “Just thought I’d ask.”

…Right.

Cass blinks again. “Once you’re finished, you can head home,” she hears herself say. “I’ll take care of closing up.”

“Sounds good.” Ethel hits the last table, then straightens and heads to the back room with the storage closet for the cleaning supplies.

So, then, the lobby is empty. Cass is left standing in a quiet, bright, vacant room. Hiro still isn’t back yet.

…

The door to the back room closes. “See you tomorrow, Miss H.”

“Have a good night,” she says, and- and the words sound normal, and warm, and content. So why does she feel like-

…

_like nothing._

…

It’s late, and Hiro still isn’t back.

The receipts are in order. The register is in order. The cleaning’s done, and… wasn’t there something else? There should have been something else.

Oh, right. She needs to eat something. Strangely, she finds herself looking forward to heading to bed, more than anything else.

…

She’s too tired to make anything more than a frozen TV dinner.

…

Hiro still isn’t back.

And then he is, and he shoulders past her with his eyes on the ground- at least, she assumes they are, but she can’t really see his face with the hood up like that. She tries to say something, but the energy of calling out the words just isn’t there, and she settles for watching him grab a soda from the fridge, and slouch his way up to the attic.

…

Cass Hamada blinks, and realizes she’s been sitting on the couch for ten minutes. The TV isn’t even on. She was just… sitting here. For no reason.

…

Hiro is, she guesses, either working on homework up there or already asleep. She finishes brushing her teeth, drinks a glass of water, and heads to her bedroom.

She stares at the ceiling for a while, lost in blank non-thoughts, before remembering to turn out the lamp on her bedside table.

…

…

…

November moves along.

Cass Hamada wakes up, and begins the day.


	21. November, 7

**-yo dude Hiro my dudde  
**

**-dudebro**

**-Hiro**

**-Hirobocop**

**-Hirows the boat, and Hiropes the cattle**

**-wait I got a good one**

**-and on the third day**

**-Hirose again lmao  
**

**-...fred what the hell**

**-oh good iw as running out of names  
**

**-where are you man letst make this a proper party  
**

**-what**

**-im lost  
**

**-we’re all at the cafe**

**-and I assumd you wd be here**

**-but alas I could not find you**

**-Hiro-r there or anywhere**

**-haha nailed it**

**-srsly though it’s gonn be a good time**

**-why is everyone here???**

**-wait wait I got one more**

**-after Hiropes the cattle**

**-Hiroasts some beef**

**-FRED**

**-for real yo just get out here**

**[]**

****

Okay. Terrible, terrible jokes aside, there are like ten really strange things about this.

Hiro squints at the screen- because, honestly, is Fred _actually_ going to just act like things are cool and he wants everyone to hang out? That makes him either hopelessly optimistic, or completely oblivious to… well, everything.

‘Everything’, in this case, referring to the fact that this AI problem is bringing his work to a goddamn full stop, and he’s pretty sure he’s made literally no progress in the several _hours_ that he’s been cooped up in the garage, today, and if he’s not able to-

Hm. Not today. Tonight? No, today. It’s not- it’s not that late yet. He scowls at his phone, checking the time with a brief glance, then shoves it back in his pocket. Then he realizes he didn’t actually see what time it was.

Whatever. The point is, if he’s not able to move forward on this coding thing, it’s going to be a lot more difficult to stop thinking ‘Hey, this may be literally unsolvable’, which is just doing _wonderful_ things for his concentration, grades, overall mood, and sleep schedule.

Hah. Yeah, just keep thinking like that. Snark and sarcasm are clearly going to help.

 _I mean_ , _at least it’s better than ~~HE’S NOT COMING BACK~~ -_

Okay, hell, that was a little more aggressive than he meant to be. He sighs, and rubs at his temples _~~TOO COMPLICATED, TOO DAMAGED~~_ as if that’ll help the dull ache lessen, and tries to concentrate on ~~_NEVER BE ABLE TO DO WHAT HE DID_~~ whatever he was… thinking about before, with the- with ~~_BAYMAX IS-_~~ with the messages, on his phone, because Fred was telling him about ~~_GONE_~~ how everyone’s here at the café.

At some point, he hunched over in his seat- he straightens, now, and pushes away from the computer desk, so the chair rolls partway across the garage, closer to the entrance to the house. After a few seconds, he glances that way.

…He’s really thrown by this text. Fred’s acting like- like nothing’s wrong? Like he hasn’t been sorta-more-or-less avoiding everyone? Like he didn’t just get in trouble for _punching_ someone on campus? Like this is just a normal friggin’ fall day, and they’re gonna have their little group meet-up and hang out and it won’t be the most awkward semi-mumbled-silence the greater San Fransokyo area has ever seen?

And also, none of that explains _why they’re here at the café._

…Actually, there might be a reason. He taps the phone in his pocket in a rhythm, and memories sluggishly make themselves known- Go Go applied a while back, and he knows she’s been working here. And he vaguely remembers Wasabi talking about applying; he mentioned something about how he actually likes restaurant work, because he’s really good at organizing and cleaning and getting a lot of tasks managed at the same time. He's heard Cass say it's a decent side job to make some extra cash, especially for students.

He didn’t think anything of it, at the time. And… did Cass mention something about Honey Lemon helping out with some shifts, too?

Hiro narrows his eyes, and imagines them beyond that doorway- if both Go Go and Wasabi are working, Fred’s probably making it his mission to heckle them to oblivion. And he made it sound like Honey’s here, too.

…What do you know. What are the _chances,_ right? (And suddenly he has a very distinct feeling, that Fred’s probably gonna end up helping as well, because _of course_ he is.)

For some reason, the thought leaves a dark, bitter echo in his mind, and he stands quickly, and the chair pushes away behind him, and- what’s he _doing,_ really? What’s the point, here? What, he’s just gonna… go see everybody, and give them all the whole story of what happened after Kapur’s class? As if that would matter?

As if any of this would m-

He looks back to the screen, where Fred’s random texts are shining in the dark room. His hand grips the sides of the phone, and- and for some reason, he feels like he could hurl it against the wall. Just… smash it, and break it.

So he does.

It’s surreal- one moment, he’s clenching his fist until the edge digs into his skin, and then suddenly his arm jerks out, and the phone’s flying- until it slams into the wall of the garage with a loud _CLANG_ , and tumbles into the corner.

One more _clack_ of noise, when it hits the ground. And then it’s quiet again, except the low hum of the computer, and Hiro’s arm is shaking- wow, yeah, he’s really kind of freaking out now. He leans forward, and puts his head in his hands, because whatever this boiling, tumultuous sense of panic is, it’s different from before- he had the bizarre and nonsensical thought that throwing the phone would help somehow, but it seems to have made it worse. He’s breathing hard, and there’s still a weird buzzing in his arms and hands, so he presses his palms against the sides of his head again, like that might _help_ , of course it won’t _help_ , it would never be that easy-

And he blinks, and looks up. Suddenly the energy’s gone- there’s only a cold realization that he just broke his goddamn phone. He needs that. It’s important.

…Shit.

He scrambles forward, only dizzy for a moment before he crosses the room and picks it up to see the damage, and… it’s fine. There’s not even a scratch on the screen.

The case saved it, he supposes.

_-because Tadashi bought it for him, on his birthday, and he said that even Hiro’s usual brand of nonsense wouldn’t break it-_

Son of a _bitch._ The thought makes him almost want to throw it again, and he growls and jams the phone into his pocket before he can. This is so stupid. And the worst part is, he can’t just dismiss his little meltdown like the pointless waste of time he knows it is, because he still feels trapped, and helpless, even though he could just walk through the damn doorway and go _talk_ to them, if he wanted, but he doesn’t WANT to, because he wants to keep working, but he CAN’T, because the stupid fucking goddamn research isn’t HELPING him, and he can’t make it WORK, and he ~~can’t get him back~~ -

He grits his teeth, and shakes his head, and slaps his hand to the side of his skull all at the same time. A little harder than he means to, and it kinda stings, but it also causes him to bite the inside of his cheek which hurts like _hell._ “Ow,” he blurts out automatically, hissing and checking right away if there’s any blood, because it sure feels like there is. “ _Ow.”_

The room’s quiet, except for his own breathing. He stands there for a moment, feeling like a goddamn moron, before stalking out of the garage. Hallway. Stairs. Kitchen. Lobby.

…It’s not like he was expecting someone to respond.

There’s fire at the edge of his thoughts, sparking and crackling in his arms and legs. He feels like he’s about to scream. He feels like he did when he punched the douchebag from Kapur’s lecture. But none of that matters, because there’s _nothing he can do._ It all just _sits_ there, and he can’t _deal_ with it.

He stops when he can see them. He’s far enough away that they probably won’t notice him, at the edge of the lobby, through the other groups of customers and two or three employees running around- Go Go has an apron on, and she’s clearing one of the tables while Wasabi sits with the others. If he’s working one of his first shifts, maybe he’s on break or something. Fred’s saying something that’s making Honey laugh occasionally.

She might actually be here to eat. What a concept. And Fred probably showed up just to mess with the others.

He feels like his feet are rooted to the spot. It’s not that far, but for some reason, he imagines the short distance like a chasm. And there are some books open in front of them, on the table- they’re probably working on SFIT stuff, which, hey, might as well start stressing over his colossal backlog of late work, and the talk with Kapur, and the fight, and the ‘think about your future’ bullshit. Just throw it on top of everything else. Why not, right?

God, there’s just so much shit he can’t talk to people about.

…Of course, they’ve been telling him to-

That thought is caught and replaced by another: they’re all helping out, here at the restaurant. Or, they’re probably planning to. Isn’t that just convenient? There’s a suspicion growing in his mind, heavy and chilling- and it only gets more prominent the longer he looks across the lobby. They could be getting… internships, or something. If they wanted. They have the requirements for much more prestigious jobs than this, obviously.

Part of him wants to shrug it off, and put on a smile, and join them.

…

Almost unconsciously, he analyzes the possible outcome. Go Go’s probably still angry with him, after Halloween- hell, _Fred_ should be the most upset with him, given the bloody nose that’s still clear in Hiro’s memory. But apparently he’s completely over it, with those texts, so- he’d be fine, but Wasabi and Honey would probably still be hesitant to bring up the failed non-mission, and on top of that the idea of talking to _anyone_ right now is making his head spin.

And at least one of them will likely want to know, ‘Hey, buddy, no big deal, but any particular reason you went ballistic and punched someone in the face the other day?’ That’s not exactly a conversation he wants to start up. And, he realizes with a sinking feeling: if he goes out there, he runs the risk of talking to Cass. So either the group will see how awkward _that_ particular silence would be, or he’d have to put on a fake smile, and act like they’re fine, and talk to her about… something normal, he guesses, like…

…

Who is he kidding?

He just doesn’t want to, and that’s all there is to it. The thought makes him cringe- excuses or not, the truth is that he’s afraid, and stubborn, and tired. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

Maybe that’s just who he is.

So he stands in the doorway, staring across the crowds- from this angle, even if any of the four turned to look this direction, they’d barely be able to see him. Fred’s still arguing about something, making his case with wild gestures and occasionally pointing to the ceiling fan, for some reason. Honey looks like she’s going along with it and humoring him, or maybe she’s joking by pretending to listen closely and solemnly nod with every point he makes. Go Go has to keep switching between heading to another table, and circling back to the group when she has the time to throw in a snide jab that makes Fred lose his train of thought completely; and for his part, Wasabi…

Is looking right at him.

Well, shit, he was wrong about the angle thing. Hiro starts, suddenly nervous; but Wasabi doesn’t say anything. He just… looks at him, and then sighs.

…Then he turns back and says something to Fred. It gets him to yell in response, and Honey laughs, and the conversation goes on.

They look happy.

Hiro still can’t bring himself to move. Wasabi _could_ tell the others, or wave to him, or anything else. Of course, Hiro could just as easily walk over and join them. Simple. Easy.

…

…

…

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t take a single step forward. In fact, he- he sees Wasabi look his way one more time. And then, he turns around and heads back to the garage. The noise behind him fades.

…

…

…

_What’s wrong with you?_

…

…

…

…

...

...

**-Hey, Hiro.**

**-I didn’t mean to ignore you, or act like you shouldn’t join us.**

**-I’m sorry if it seemed that way.**

**…**

**-I guess I was hoping you would come say hello. On your own, I mean.**

**-Offer’s still open, by the way. I know Fred can be a bit… overbearing.**

**…**

**-I suppose I’m rambling. I’ve been told my texts are more long-winded than necessary.**

**…**

**-Look.**

**-I don’t know what’s going on. I admit it.**

**-I don’t know why you’re avoiding us.**

**-But that’s your decision. This was never an obligation, I suppose. No one said the five of us HAD to be best pals for life.**

**-Again, though, it’s your choice. I want you to know that. No one’s making you do anything. I think I speak for all of us, when I say- we like having you around. You’re a ‘pretty special kid’, as your brother used to say.**

**…**

**-I probably shouldn’t have sent that last one. I didn’t mean to bring him up in such a flippant way. I’m sorry.**

**…**

**-Or maybe avoiding mentioning him is worse? I’m not sure.**

**-If you’re not talking to any of us, though, I guess it doesn’t matter.**

**…**

**-You’re not reading these, are you?**


End file.
